Purple Elks
by pizzamargherita
Summary: Legolas and Tauriel's first meeting, or: Two little elflings decide to hate each other at first sight. Will it last? Probably not. Will they ever stop challenging each other? Unlikely. But after all, opposites attract, don't they?
1. Prologue

_Mae govannen, everyone!_

_This story is meant as a curtsey to J.R.R. Tolkien's masterpieces and Peter Jackson's equally brilliant adaptations. I don't own Middle-earth, nor do I make money with this story, it is for entertainment purposes only. (Surprise - who would have thought it?) _

_However, I do own my original characters. Please don't abduct them to your own stories._

* * *

><p>Darkness. Pain. The taste of blood in her mouth. The echo of the screams still in her ears, though they have long been silenced.<p>

The little girl leans against a tree to catch her breath. She has been running for what seems an eternity, she has lost all sense of time and direction. She starts to feel the pain in her lungs and her legs. Her hands clasp the wooden handle of her father's knife. She knows she will not be able to defend herself if they come back, but she needs something to hold on to, something to let her know that this is real, not just a nightmare, as much as she wishes it was. Her mind has stopped working long ago, but an instinct deep inside her keeps her body functioning.

Spiders. Dozens of them. Huge black bodies, long bristled legs, fangs as sharp as razors – and eyes, far too many pale, empty eyes.

A new wave of terror overflows her body. She starts running again, but she trips over a root and finds herself on the leaf-covered ground, shaking and unable to get back up. She takes a deep breath. The familiar smell of earth and moss provides a strange comfort. The mindless panic slowly fades, giving way to an all-embracing emptiness, and the girl's senses sink into warm, soft, merciful blackness.

* * *

><p>"She's hurt. Hilion, look! Is that a spider bite?"<p>

"Call the captain!"

"Let's go, and watch out for the rest of the beasts!"

The girl can hear voices, but she is unable to open her eyes. Someone picks her up, but she does not even care. Her face rests against the smooth leather of the man's armour. She feels blood running down her cheek. A moment later, the world goes dark again.


	2. Purple Elks

It was a warm summer morning, so Nimiel had enjoyed her short walk to the forest clearing, where the healers cultivated medical plants. It was one of the few places where some shy rays of sunlight still reached the ground. The rest of the forest had grown so dusky, so depressingly dark that she hardly ever ventured away from the palace on her own anymore, except for picking herbs to refill her medical supply. Nimiel remembered happier times, when the forest had been green and full of life. But of course, she thought, many centuries had passed since then. She sighed and walked on, a bittersweet smile on her face.

The first patient she was going to visit that day would be the girl who had survived the spider attack on the little settlement near the southern border of the kingdom. Eighteen people had been killed by the beasts, and it was a miracle that this child had managed to escape and survive in the forest for two days before the guards had found her. Nimiel had done her very best to heal the bruises and spider bites the girl had suffered, and of course she had done excellently. But there was a much deeper wound in the little girl's soul, which was not even close to healing. A whole month had passed since the guards had brought her to the Houses of Healing, but still she had not spoken a single word. Nimiel cared about each and every one of her patients, but this child's fate touched her more deeply than any battle-slain hero she had attended in five thousand years.

She entered the palace through the main gate and crossed the inner courtyard. It was a busy place, even in the early morning hours. People were walking from here to there, chatting and shouting assignments to each other, attending their daily business.

When she reached the entrance of the healing quarters, she was welcomed by the familiar smell of herbs and freshly washed linen. She took a moment to look around. This was her own little kingdom which she ruled with lots of dedication, a good deal of pragmatism and – as the healers joked among themselves – with an iron fist. She did not even try to hide the little smile of amusement and ever so slight satisfaction that appeared on her face.

A nurse in a blue dress and white apron greeted her with a respectful nod. Nimiel handed her basket full of herbs over to her and inquired after some of the patients. There had been no new admissions or critical incidents over the night, so she started her daily routine as intended.

The little girl sat upright in her bed in one corner of the children's room, immobile, gazing at the opposite wall, her red hair forming a bright contrast with the white pillowcase. There were no other children in Nimiel's care at the moment, so the girl was all alone in the room.

One of the walls was covered with drawings, and a big chest right next to the door held an impressive collection of wooden toy animals. There was a shelf full of books and a table with paper, brushes and watercolours. It was altogether a joyful place to recover from an illness, but the little girl did not seem to care for any of it.

When Nimiel entered, the elfling acknowledged the visitor with a blank stare in her general direction. The healer approached her bed and made quite an effort to manage a cheerful smile.

"Good morning, my dear," she said and kneeled down by the bedside. While carefully examining the last remaining spider bite on the girl's arm, she told her all sorts of meaningless pleasantries, but there was no reaction whatsoever. The child did not even complain when Nimiel applied a burning disinfectant to the wound.

"What are we going to do with you, my brave little Tauriel?" she asked herself rather than the child. Until the girl would be able to tell her what her real name was, Nimiel had decided to simply call her Tauriel, because a daughter of the forest she was, and all the other healers had started to refer to her by that name as well.

There was a knock at the door and one of the apprentice healers peeked inside shyly. "Excuse me, my lady," he uttered. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but we have a…, well, sort of an emergency."

Nimiel raised her eyebrows. "What is it?"

The young man was clearly struggling to maintain a serious expression. "The king's butler. Apparently the prince fell off a tree and suffered a slight laceration to the head, but it is poor Galion who seems to be in much greater need of medical assistance."

"Just offer him a glass of wine and tell him to calm down," Nimiel laughed. "Although I do understand his distress. That boy clearly has too much spare energy for foolish ideas and I would not wish to trade places with old Galion when he tells his father the news… Very well then, I am on my way." She handed the bottle of disinfectant to him. "Here, finish this for me, please." She gave the little girl another encouraging yet unanswered smile before she rushed out of the room to face this most urgent medical challenge.

In the waiting room, she found the butler lolling in a chair, pale-faced and exhausted, though it was still early in the morning. "Galion, my old friend," she greeted him, "I hear your protégé overestimated his abilities again?"

The butler shook his head. "I hate the summer holidays. In the name of Eru, that boy is driving me to the edge of my sanity. Only last week he accidentally set fire to the tapestry in the throne room and burnt off the faces of half the Valar on it. I am sure you can picture the king's reaction to a headless Manwe looking down on his map table."

Nimiel could not help but laugh. "Poor Galion, I feel for you. Stay here for a while, take a deep breath and let me see what I can do for your little adventurer." The butler sighed and managed an exhausted half-grin.

Nimiel entered the treatment room, where another healer was already examining the prince's head. He did not seem to suffer too much, in fact he looked rather satisfied with himself and was admiring an enormous red and golden apple in his hand.

"Lady Nimiel, look, I picked this myself, right from the topmost branch!" he exclaimed when he saw her, shaking off the healer's hand, who made an annoyed face.

"Thank you, Belegor, I will take it from here," Nimiel said and he gladly left the field to her. As soon as he had closed the door behind himself, Nimiel sat down next to the boy on the treatment table and looked at him with the sternest of expressions. "Legolas, what were you thinking?" she asked him. "You scared your poor friend Galion to death. And can you imagine how worried your father will be?"

The boy's face turned to the wall. "Ada has no time to worry about me," he replied. Nimiel suddenly felt a strong urge to hug the little boy. She knew how much King Thranduil cherished his only son, but being a single father and ruling a kingdom in a huge, beast-infested forest were indeed two tasks most difficult to combine. The prince had a legion of servants at his disposal, but he still craved his father's attention – and who could blame him?

Nimiel knew that in this moment she could do nothing to ease the child's distress but to offer a little distraction, so she gave him a mirror and let him watch closely while she cleaned and bandaged the harmless laceration on his forehead, explaining every detail of the treatment and every substance she used.

Her strategy paid off: As he rejoined Galion in the waiting room with an impressive bandage around his head – a benevolent exaggeration on Nimiel's part, given the harmlessness of his wound – he wore the proud face of a victorious warrior.

"I am afraid you will have to stay here for a little while to make sure you have not suffered a concussion," Nimiel decided. The prince's disappointment was plain to see, but Galion finally convinced him to be a good boy and obey the healers. The butler took his leave, not at all ready to bear the news to the king.

Nimiel took her patient to the children's room and ordered a nurse to put fresh sheets on one of the spare beds. The little girl gave them an absent look. "Legolas, I would like you to meet Tauriel," the healer explained. "She has been through a very hard time and is still recovering, so be nice to her!" She had a glimpse of hope that maybe the company of another child would help the girl come out of her shell.

Legolas threw an interested look over to the other bed, but for the moment the only reaction he got was a sceptical frown. That was something at least, Nimiel stated to herself and set off to finally continue her morning routine.

* * *

><p>The children spent the next half hour in silence, ignoring each other's presence as best they could. Legolas had introduced himself to his new roommate, but her utter lack of reaction had mortally offended him, so he chose to punish her by returning the silent treatment.<p>

He kept it up for a good while, but eventually he could not bear the enforced idleness any longer and started to explore the room in spite of the healer's strict order to stay in bed. He found the chest with the toy animals and spent some time examining them, always under the critical eyes of Tauriel, who could not quite manage to hide her interest in her new companion. Soon Legolas found his favourite animal, a tiny wooden elk with impressive antlers. He took it to the little table with the watercolours in the centre of the room and started to paint it purple. Tauriel continued to watch him with increasing disdain.

And suddenly, out of the blue, she said, "Elks aren't purple." He turned around and stared at her in astonishment. She had spoken in the dialect of the Silvan people, which he had been learning for less than a year. If only he had paid enough attention during his lessons to give her a proper tit-for-tat response!

Instead he just replied with as much condescension as he could manage, "How would you know? I bet you've never seen one."

A pair of squinted green eyes turned towards him. "I have seen pictures of them in books."

"That's probably the only thing people like you can do with books," Legolas snapped.

She gasped and her face reflected her fury, but she repressed the urge to shout at him and replied coldly, "At least I know that there are no purple creatures at all in any corner of any forest."

"Oh, really?" He rose from his chair and approached her bed, holding the elk in one hand and the paintbrush in the other. "Let me show you a purple forest creature!" With one quick movement he waved the paintbrush and splashed a good deal of purple watercolour into Tauriel's disbelieving face.

* * *

><p>Nimiel had not yet finished half of her ward round when she was called to the waiting room again. This time she was expected by a rather unusual visitor. "My lord," she greeted the king with a bow, "let me assure you that there is no reason to worry, your son has not suffered any substantial injury."<p>

The king's posture relaxed and his expression softened slightly. Under all the layers of his majestic countenance it was not easy to read his thoughts from his face, but Nimiel had known her king long enough – and cured him from more than one battle wound during the past five thousand years – as to notice his relief.

"I thank you for your care," he replied. "Next time Legolas will know better." They both knew that was a lie.

"Do you wish to see him?" Nimiel offered. "I have placed him with the girl who survived the spider attack."

There was a short pause before he answered. Nimiel suddenly regretted bringing up Tauriel and the spider issue. She knew that the king, being very concerned for the well-being of his people and watching the increasing spider problem in his realm with growing alarm, had been utterly shocked at the massacre at the southern border. He felt guilty for not being able to protect his subjects from the evil brewing in the shadows of the forest. So when the guards had brought Tauriel to the Houses of Healing, he had urged Nimiel to do everything she could to help the child and had often inquired after her progress during the weeks that followed.

So he did now, as they walked along the corridor. "Her wounds are almost healed," Nimiel explained, "but she is still traumatised. From a medical point of view, it is unnecessary to keep her in hospital any longer, but as we have not been able to find any relatives of hers, I believe she will have to stay with us a little longer, until we know what is to become of her. I would not like to see her leave without making sure that she will be placed in the best possible hands."

The king stopped and looked at her firmly. "Rest assured that I will not let this child suffer any more misfortunes."

"My lord, it was not your fault." Nimiel took a step towards him and touched his hand – an unthinkable insolence, given her status, but in all the long years of their friendship she had learned when to behave inappropriately in order to prevent her king from despairing of his self-imposed sense of duty.

"It is my responsibility to guarantee my people's safety and it was my soldiers who could not protect those families. So it is my fault, whatever effort you might make to comfort me, my dear friend," he said, forcing what was supposed to look like a smile. "So tell me, what do you suggest as to the girl's future whereabouts?"

Nimiel had indeed made up her mind about that question, though she had not spoken of her idea to anyone at the Houses of Healing so far. "Well, I believe it may benefit her mental recovery to leave the hospital as soon as possible. And as there seem to be no family members, I would be willing to take her under my own care."

The king seemed sceptical. "With all due respect, my lady, do you not think you may be overreaching yourself? The duties you have to oversee every day are enough for two people as it is. I do not wish the head of my healing quarters to die of exhaustion," he added with a nearly invisible smirk.

Nimiel shook her head. "It would not be an imposition at all. Until she is well enough to attend school, I will cut back my hours at the hospital. I am sure the other healers will be perfectly fine with that arrangement – and not altogether unhappy. As for my son, who is not that much older than the girl must be, he was very pleased with my idea. We are already a rather unconventional family since his father… was taken from us."

Nimiel paused. She hardly talked about her late husband and her mentioning him now, in front of the king, who had to bear a no less tragic family history, had been an accident.

He took a moment to answer, but then he simply said, "The matter is settled then. I am glad this issue has been resolved so easily."

They had reached the door of the children's room and stopped. They could hear strange noises coming from the inside, which did not quite fit the notion of two sick children recovering. They looked at each other sceptically, then Nimiel opened the door with a determined thrust.

The sight offered to them made them freeze in the doorframe: Two elflings drenched in purple watercolour, shouting profanities at each other from either side of the little table in the middle of a mess of pencils, brushes and paper.

"Traumatised, I see…" the king remarked with a tilt of his head and a raised eyebrow, but Nimiel was too stunned to answer.

In the meantime the children had noticed the adults and stared at them with guilty faces. "Legolas, stop that nonsense at once," the king said to his son in a firm voice.

The prince put down his paintbrush and looked to the ground. "I'm sorry, Ada," he mumbled.

Nimiel walked up to Tauriel, whose cheeks were red with agitation. She looked up at the healer with a guilty frown, but Nimiel just laughed and gave her a hug – a completely improper reaction, as she realised a moment later on seeing Legolas' perplexed face.

The king had crouched down in front of his son and started to give him a lecture about appropriate behaviour. His expression was very stern, but Nimiel saw a hint of a smirk in the corner of his mouth. "You will stay here – in bed – until Lady Nimiel releases you. And before you leave, you will clean up this mess you made." Legolas wanted to protest, but his father's severe look made him keep his mouth shut.

"So will you, young lady," Nimiel said to Tauriel, who had gone back to being silent – this time, however, it was for reasons of both guilt and defiance, as Nimiel could clearly read from her face.

When the adults had left the room, the two elflings glared at each other from their beds. "Peasant!" Legolas snarled with a frown. "Snob!" Tauriel spat back at him and rolled her eyes.


	3. White Bats

"Now remember, Tauriel," Amril said and bent down to her, "there is nothing to be afraid of. Just go in there, meet your new classmates and enjoy your first day of school. This afternoon I will pick you up again right here." With that he left, throwing another encouraging smile over his shoulder.

Tauriel took a deep breath. It was indeed the very first day of school in her life. In the little border settlement where she had lived before, she had been the only child, so her education had rested more or less arbitrarily in the hands of her parents, grandparents and other community members. Attending a real school was an entirely new and fairly intimidating experience for her.

But of course, everything in her life had changed. She had lived with Lady Nimiel and her son Amril for almost two months now. Her new family could not be kinder or more caring and there actually were moments when she did not think about the terrible things that had happened.

Amril did his best to keep her occupied by showing her a new wondrous curiosity of the Woodland Palace every day. Tauriel had never seen so many people in one place and such elaborate buildings before. She was used to simple wooden huts, built entirely for purposes of practicality, so the palace with its countless decorated rooms in the huge subterranean and the smaller but still impressive above ground part was like a miracle to Tauriel. Her new foster brother laughed at her amazement, but he obviously enjoyed taking the little girl under his wing and helping her explore her new home.

But that was not all he did: He often told her stories or read to her from old books in the palace library. At first she had not understood anything because all his stories were written and told in Sindarin, the language of the people who had come to Greenwood from a faraway land thousands of years ago. Nimiel had been one of them, as Amril had told her, but the little girl could impossibly grasp the concept of such an immeasurable time span.

Their language, however, had outlasted the years, and although both her foster mother and brother spoke the Silvan dialect fluently – it was the general means of communication in the Woodland Realm – Tauriel had soon expressed her wish to learn their language. So they had switched to speaking Sindarin to her most of the time. Nimiel had brought a whole pile of spelling books and children's stories and sat down with Tauriel for two hours every evening to teach her the complicated grammatical structures and the beautiful yet confusing words. Within a few weeks the little girl had acquired a remarkable vocabulary and both Nimiel and Amril could not help but declare that their new family member possessed an extraordinarily bright mind.

Tauriel hoped it would help her at her new school. She was afraid that the other children, having spent all their lives in a place as wondrous as this, would laugh at her simple education and manners. She gathered all her courage and entered the classroom.

It was ample and welcoming; there were several small desks and bigger tables, bookshelves and lots of colourful wall charts with pictures of birds, butterflies and other forest animals. Six of the desks were already taken. The children looked at Tauriel curiously. To her relief, they did not appear too scary at all. But before she could make contact with them, the teacher walked into the room, a tall elleth with chestnut brown hair and a friendly face.

She made Tauriel come to the front and introduce herself to the others. "My name is Tauriel… and I'm forty-two," she said shyly for lack of other ideas. Somehow she had ended up adopting the name Nimiel had given to her at the Houses of Healing. Everyone referred to her by it and she did not mind. In fact, she preferred not to be addressed by the name her parents had given to her because it made her sad when other people used it, knowing that her mother and father would never say it again. And after all, every Elda bore several names, depending on who addressed them.

The teacher, who had introduced herself as Nemireth, assigned her one of the two remaining desks. Tauriel sat down, took out her paper and quill and tried to calm down. The first task of the new school year was to write about one memorable event during the holidays. Tauriel chose her first trip to the palace library with Amril and started scribbling. The other children peeked over to her from time to time and some of them threw her shy smiles. She returned their interested looks and hoped that she would get the chance to talk to them soon.

About ten minutes after the lesson had begun, the classroom door flung open and a blond boy rushed in, out of breath, holding his pile of books and paper in one hand and a half eaten pear in the other. "I'm sorry," he gasped, "I was… detained." Tauriel could hear a few suppressed chuckles.

The teacher raised her eyebrows. "I am not going to inquire after the urgent business that kept you from joining us on time," she said dryly and waited until he had sat down at the last empty desk on Tauriel's right. Only then she realised that it was the boy she had met at the Houses of Healing a few weeks ago. The arrogant princeling who had assaulted her with a paintbrush and called her a peasant, just because she had tried to educate him about the colour of elks!

The recognition was mutual; Legolas glanced over to his new classmate, frowned and rolled his eyes. Then both of them turned towards their work and did not acknowledge each other's existence again for the rest of the lesson.

As the day progressed, Tauriel got to know the rest of her classmates. It turned out that most of them were Silvans, whose parents worked in or around the palace. She had a hard time remembering all their names at once, but they all seemed friendly and easy to talk to.

She learned that the school consisted of no more than two classes. The few children who lived at the palace were divided into two age groups: The younger one was her own class, whereas Amril belonged to the older one.

After three lessons of language, arithmetic and history with Nemireth, another teacher, called Halron, led them out of the classroom and to a forest clearing right outside the main gate of the palace. There were several wooden targets attached to the trees and each child was given a small training bow and a quiver full of arrows.

"Don't touch them, they're sharp!" Halron warned Tauriel, who was curiously examining the shiny arrowheads. She quickly put them back into the quiver and felt a little silly. Obviously she was the only one who had never used a bow before.

The exercise was easy enough to understand: One after another, they were supposed to shoot at all of the four targets in a row, trying to hit the black mark in the centre or come as close to it as possible. Tauriel repeated the assignment in her head, trying to figure out how to accomplish it.

"Legolas, show us how it's done!" Halron said and the prince came forward with his bow. He had a smug grin on his face as he shot his four arrows, and Tauriel could not help being impressed – against her will, of course – when he hit three of the black marks and missed the fourth one only by an inch. "Very good, next!" Halron called, and so all of Tauriel's other classmates took their turn aiming at the targets. None of them did as well as Legolas, she noticed.

Tauriel herself waited until all the others were done. She was afraid to make a fool out of herself because she had never even touched a bow before, but Halron was patient and showed her exactly how to position her feet, how to hold her arms and how to direct her look along the arrow to the target.

The other children were very supportive and cheered for her when she released her first arrow. She did not think too much because she was far too distracted by their voices, but somehow, to her own surprise, she managed to hit the target right in the centre of the black circle. Halron smiled in approval and the other children applauded – apart from Legolas, who looked rather astonished.

Tauriel aimed at the second target, bent the bow and shot. She was starting to like it. The second arrow landed as flawlessly as the first one and so did the two that followed. "I'll need to set more difficult targets for you," Halron joked. Tauriel did not know what to answer. She had no idea how she had done it, she only knew that archery was probably going to be a subject she would like very well.

After the last lesson of the day – art, which Tauriel had not enjoyed too much because she could hardly draw a straight line, let alone trees and birds – the children packed their things and hurried out of the classroom. "Tauriel, we're going to play. Are you coming?" a black-haired boy named Berion asked her. She was not sure what to answer because Nimiel expected her to come home after school.

Fortunately Amril was already waiting for her outside the classroom, as he had promised. He seemed pleased that his little protégé had established new contacts and he encouraged her to go with her classmates. "Off you go, I'll tell Naneth. You'll find your way home, won't you?" Tauriel nodded and followed the other children.

They decided to play hide and seek, starting from the courtyard. The palace with all its dark corners and corridors was the perfect place for that game. Berion and a honey blond girl, whose name Tauriel could not remember, were appointed to look for the other six. They covered their eyes and started counting to one hundred.

Tauriel could not decide where to hide because she did not know the palace as well as the others. So she chose the first door she saw and found herself in a long, broad corridor illuminated by torches. It was slightly inclined and led downwards.

She followed it and at some point there were no more torches and the corridor started becoming narrower and narrower the further she went. She passed several junctions and open doors and eventually she had to stop because a heavy iron gate blocked her way. She turned around and headed back, but suddenly she realised that she could not remember where she had come from. There were three possible ways and she chose the middle one as a random guess. Of course it was not the right one.

Tauriel looked around. She was in a labyrinth with walls of crude rock, the only glimpse of light coming from the weak red glow of a nearly gone out torch on the wall. She did not like the dark. Her knees began to buckle and she could feel her heartbeat in her ears. She forced herself to take a deep breath and calm down. What was the worst thing that could happen? Probably that she would have to wait down there until a guard came to change the torches. Then there would be a lecture from Nimiel for coming home late. So all in all, not the worst possible scenarios. Her heartbeat slowed down a bit.

The next moment her blood froze in her veins. She heard a noise right next to her. It was a shrill shriek that could have woken a petrified troll. From the corner of her eyes, she saw something white move quickly in the dark.

Tauriel panicked. She started running without any sense of orientation, turned at several junctions and did not stop until she saw a flicker of light at the end of the corridor. She slowed down and rested her hand against the wall. But that was no wall – instead of the expected cold stone she felt warm, soft fabric. Her scream almost trumped the one she had heard some minutes before.

"Ssshhhh!" A hand was put over her mouth. Tauriel instinctively bit it and thrust her fist into the direction where she assumed the body belonging to it. "Oouch! Manwe's earlobes, what's wrong with you?"

Tauriel paused for a moment. That voice sounded familiar. "Legolas?" she whispered into the dark.

"Yes, of course, what did you think?" it came back in a strange articulation. "You hit me right on the chin!" He snuffled.

"Sorry. But what are you doing down here anyway?"

"Hiding – remember?" Right, Tauriel did remember. She had completely forgotten about the game.

Which led her to a new question: "Where in the palace are we?"

He let out an annoyed sigh. "Under the courtyard, between the dungeons and the wine cellar. Now how about you shut up?"

"How about I make your nose match your chin?" she replied and a wave of anger boiled up inside her.

"I suppose we've won the game by now anyway," the prince conceded graciously. "Come on, let's get out of here."

He started moving in direction of the weak light at the end of the corridor. Tauriel followed him, trying to stay as close as her pride allowed it. After a few turns he stopped abruptly. "Well, damn," he stated in a matter-of-fact voice.

"What is it?" Tauriel forgot to stick with her anger.

Legolas' knuckles hit something hard and it gave a metallic clank. "The portcullis is closed," he answered. "It was open when I came in, but in the meantime a guard must have closed it. We have to go the other way."

"What other way?" Tauriel's voice revealed her reluctance.

"The one you came from! Eru, give me patience…" Although she could not see it, the eye-rolling was implied in his tone.

She stepped into his way. "We shouldn't go there! There is something strange… Didn't you hear it?"

She noticed something like a suppressed chuckle. "You mean the poor bats you scared to death?"

"Bats?"

"Yes, white bats. They live down here. They're blind and completely harmless. At night they fly out and hunt insects, at daytime they sleep in these corridors. You must have given them the shock of their lives waking them up in the middle of the afternoon."

Tauriel had never felt so silly in all her life. "Fine, let's go."

Legolas led the way and without having to turn back even once they reached the inclined corridor. "I wonder why you could even get in here," the prince reasoned. "Normally there is a locked door halfway to the exit." An uncomfortable feeling rose in Tauriel's stomach.

When they arrived at the mentioned door, her intuition turned out to be right: It was locked. "Maybe someone in the courtyard will hear us if we call for help?" Tauriel suggested.

"Don't you dare!" Legolas hissed. "We're not supposed to be down here. If Ada finds out I've been in the labyrinth, he'll ground me for the rest of the Third Age. He thinks it's dangerous because it's easy to get lost or hit your head or something."

Tauriel gasped. "Calm down," Legolas tried to reassure her, "Have I led you wrong so far?" She did not answer.

Instead she wanted to know, "So, what are we supposed to do now?"

"We go back to the portcullis and wait. At five o'clock the guards change at the dungeons. They have to open another portcullis to get in and out and for some reason those things are connected, so if one opens, the others do as well. That's when we can sneak out."

"Sounds like a plan," Tauriel stated – not that there was an alternative – and they started their return journey through the dark.

When they reached the portcullis, they sat down in a strategic spot that allowed them to see when it opened but to remain unseen themselves. "How is your chin?" Tauriel asked. For one thing she really felt sorry for punching him, for another thing hearing his voice reassured her. She was still not too fond of the dark.

"It's swelling up nicely," he grumbled.

"You'll have to go to the Houses of Healing as soon as we get out," Tauriel suggested, but in the next moment she realised, "Oh no, Nimiel is going to kill me…"

"Unless my father finds you first," the prince stated dryly.

They stayed silent for several minutes after that. Then Legolas asked, "Where did you learn to shoot like that?" It was obvious that the question had been weighing heavily on his mind.

"I didn't," Tauriel replied. "I really don't know why I hit all the marks. It was fun though. And my father was a good archer, maybe that's why..." When she realised what she had just said, a wave of feelings choked her. She tried to fight it back, biting her lips.

Legolas guessed that she was struggling, but he asked anyway, "What happened to your family?"

Tauriel gulped. "Spiders," was all she could say.

To her surprise she felt a hand reaching for hers and heard the prince say, "I'm sorry."

One part of her was grateful for his sympathy, but another one did not want his compassion. She pulled her hand back and hissed, "No, you're not. You can't because you have no idea what it feels like."

He took a moment to answer. "You're right. After all I wasn't there when my mother died."

His words hit Tauriel like a fist and she felt a lump in her throat. "I'm sorry, I didn't know… How long…?"

"Twenty-one years and seven months," the answer came promptly. "I was thirty-two then."

"Do you miss her?" Tauriel was grateful to turn the conversation away from her own parents, but still she felt an urge to discuss the topic in some way.

Legolas shrugged, she could rather hear than see it. "I've got used to it, I guess. Sometimes I remember things about her that make me happy, for example, when I smell forest flowers, it reminds me of her."

Tauriel felt a single tear running down her cheek. For her it was the smell of woodruff. She pushed the thought away because she did not feel able to bear the memory. Instead she focused on Legolas again. "But you still have your Ada. Though I think he's a bit scary."

He chuckled, "That's just because he's the king. He's actually great, although he doesn't have much time for me. He always tries to be strict, but he can't keep it up for very long, only when he worries about me. He has taught me to ride and to shoot and sometimes he reads the old stories of our ancestors to me." Tauriel tried to imagine the king with a storybook in his hands, but she could not even picture him without his crown.

Another thought crossed Legolas' mind and he added. "It's true, I do get scared of him too, but only when he drinks too much wine. He gets sad sometimes and I don't know how to comfort him then, but Galion says it's best to leave him alone when that happens."

Tauriel did not know what to answer. She did not have to anyway because in that moment the portcullis started squeaking. They jumped to their feet, checked the corridor for guards, and when they could not see any, they ducked under the portcullis and entered the dungeons as quietly as they could.

There were only two prisoners in there, as far as Legolas knew; a Man from Esgaroth, who had tried to steal from the treasury, and a Woodland Elf who had assaulted one of his kinsmen with a knife. Both their cells lay in another corridor.

The guard of the previous shift had already left and the new one was busy starting his round. He walked in a slow, steady pace and did not notice Legolas and Tauriel in their hiding place in the shadows. As soon as he had entered the corridor of the prisoners, the two eldlings took their chance and snuck to the exit. The heavy door was unlocked and they could finally leave the labyrinth.

When they stepped into the courtyard, their eyes needed a moment to get used to the light again. Tauriel looked at Legolas and for the first time she could see what she had done to his face. His lower lip was bleeding, his chin was swollen and the whole thing had already started to turn blue. "We are going straight to the Houses of Healing," she commanded, grabbed his sleeve and pulled him with her.

Half an hour later Legolas came out of the treatment room with some weird-smelling paste on his lip and an ice pack pressed against his chin. Tauriel had been waiting for him, while Nimiel had dealt with the injury. The healer walked into the waiting room after him and assessed Tauriel with a critical glance.

'Here it comes,' the girl thought and prepared herself for a well-deserved lecture and most likely a prohibition to stay out after school ever again.

But Nimiel turned to Legolas instead and said with a raised eyebrow, "I am coming to think that if it were not for you, I would be unemployed. I hope not to see you here again too soon. So be more careful next time and do not walk into a door again." She pronounced the last sentence very slowly and emphatically, looking back and forth between the two children.

As soon as Nimiel was out of earshot, Tauriel whispered to Legolas, "A door? Seriously?"

He tried to manage a grin, but it came out as a painful grimace. "Sure, that's how it happened. Or do you recall anything else?" Tauriel was too perplexed to answer.

Legolas did not try to laugh at her bewildered expression, but his eyes reflected his amusement. "You know what? You're not half as nasty as you pretend to be, peasant."

Tauriel started grinning for both of them. "And you're not half as stupid as you look, snob."


	4. Golden Birds

Legolas was sitting cross-legged on the thick carpet that covered the stone tiles in his room. There were books and tattered old parchment rolls distributed all over the floor and the nicely crafted beechen desk, where Tauriel was sitting with a pile of paper in her hands, legs dangling, chewing on her quill.

"Tell me again how I ended up doing the Peoples of Arda project with you?" she asked with an exhausted sigh.

The prince looked up from the heavy book he was holding on his knees. "I don't know… Could be an excuse to come here and eat bird-shaped honey biscuits." He grinned, took one of said pastries from a plate next to him and stuffed it into his mouth, before throwing another one over to his friend, pretending the bird made of golden honey dough could actually fly. "Or maybe," he continued through a mouth full of crumbs, "it's because I came up with the best topic."

Tauriel shook her head. "Honestly – Orcs? Of all things?"

"Why not? The alternative would have been either the Horsemasters of Rohan or the halflings of the West. The Rohirrim would be pointless because there will be another presentation about the Lakemen of Esgaroth and, seriously, how much different can they be? As for the halflings, whatever they are… Well, you said yourself that it would be impossible to find information on them."

Tauriel shrugged. "I don't know… I'd still prefer to present a Free People. What about Dwarves?"

"Caliel and Gilwen are already doing that."

"The Istari?"

"No way!" The prince waved a biscuit at her to emphasise his decision. "Too complicated! We would have to present all five of them plus their respective accomplishments, and they've been around for ages – literally!"

Tauriel acknowledged his point with a nod. "True… The Avari then?"

"No, Nemireth said no Quendi were allowed. Besides, wouldn't it be a little inappropriate to mention them in the same breath with folks like Dwarves and Edain? After all, most of you Silvan people are related to them."

He was starting to get a little annoyed, but she still had another suggestion: "Ents?"

Legolas rolled his eyes. "Talking trees, how fascinating… Tauriel, stop! Just go with my idea for once! Trust me, we will have the most interesting presentation of all."

She slammed her pile of paper on the desk and let out a deep breath. "Fine, Orcs it is. But I've already done some research in the library and found tons of literature that mentions them. However, most books only give information about how many of them were slain in which battle. There's nothing about their actual characteristics, except that they're horrible. That won't be enough for a presentation though."

Legolas frowned and tilted his head. "Well, don't ask me, you're the bookworm."

"Wonderful," Tauriel grumbled. "What are we supposed to do then? We don't know anything about Orcs, do we?"

The prince pondered the question for a while, but then his face lightened up. "We don't. But I know who does. Come on!"

* * *

><p>"Seriously, you want to ask your father?" Tauriel stepped into Legolas' way as they were walking along the long, gloomy subterranean corridor that led to the king's study, armed with paper and quill and a book full of disgusting paintings of Orcs.<p>

She was not entirely comfortable with the idea of disturbing him in the middle of the afternoon, in fact she was not too comfortable around him at all. Somehow she always got the impression that he could read her every thought from her face. Being friends with Legolas, she spent a lot of time in the royal quarters and came across the king on a regular basis. He did not seem to mind her presence and most of the time he treated her with what could best be described as indifferent kindness. But for some reason he still intimidated her.

Legolas gently pushed her out of the way. "Of course, he is the best source we can get. Imagine how many Orcs he must have killed." There was nothing to refute that argument. Tauriel sighed and followed her friend.

The door to the study was closed and they could hear voices coming from the inside. "He seems to be busy," Tauriel said, "Let's come back later." She turned around but Legolas grabbed her sleeve.

"That's just Galion. Come on, if Ada tries to eat you alive, I'll protect you." His grin infuriated and reassured her at the same time.

Legolas raised his hand to knock on the door, but in the middle of the movement he stopped. "Wait. If we tell him that this is going to be a presentation for the whole class, he won't tell us anything interesting. Let's say we've learned about some fancy historic battle and are looking for extra information."

"Whatever." Tauriel thought it best to let Legolas handle the entire matter. So he knocked and after a while the king's slightly annoyed voice commanded them to enter.

The study was a beautifully decorated room with dark furniture and a huge fireplace. The walls were covered with maps and ceiling-high bookshelves. The king was sitting at his desk in front of a pile of paperwork, his face illuminated by the light of an iron candleholder on his right. Galion was standing next to him with several sealed envelopes in his hand.

When the children entered, the king's tense expression softened slightly. "Ah, fire and brimstone," he remarked, implying that the pair of them out and about on mischievous purposes was a common sight around the palace.

Both children took a bow – even Legolas had adopted this sign of respect when he spoke to his father in company. "What brings you here?" the king inquired while sealing another envelope and handing it to Galion.

"We were wondering if you could help us with our research on a school topic," Legolas said as innocently as he could. The king looked up from his paperwork as an invitation to continue. "We read about the War of Wrath in history class and we're looking for some additional information on Orcs," Legolas explained.

"Orcs?" Thranduil raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, they're quite fascinating," the prince said quickly, "in an awful, abhorrent way, of course."

A nearly invisible smirk appeared on the king's face, but he did his best to maintain a stern expression. "I see. So you read about the great deeds of your forefathers and what impressed you most were the Orcs." He sealed the last letter and with a sarcastic look at Galion he added, "I wish I was more surprised."

He gave his butler the envelope and dismissed him with a nod. Galion bowed and left the room, throwing a benevolent smile at the elflings as he walked towards the door.

Legolas approached the desk and continued, "Anyway, there is hardly any literature about Orcs in the library and we thought… maybe you could tell us something. You've seen them, haven't you?"

The king put down the signet he was still holding and leaned back in his chair. "More than I cared for," he answered.

Legolas opened the dusty book he had brought and showed his father a page with a copper engraving of a battle scene. "So, what do they look like? Is this picture accurate?"

Thranduil threw a glance at the page. "Fairly," he replied, "although there are many different types of Orcs. The ones that dwell under the mountains of Hithaeglir, for example, are shorter and even more beastlike than others. That is why we call them goblins."

"Goblins – write that down," Legolas whispered to Tauriel, who was in charge of taking notes, but she had already started scribbling. The king did not hold back his grin this time.

He got up from his chair, walked to the fireplace and stirred the embers with an iron fire-poker. Then he turned back to the children and asked, "First of all – are you aware of how the Orcs came into existence?" He leaned on his desk and looked back and forth between them.

Legolas' face reflected the hard work his brain was doing. He knew he had read about this, but he could not remember. Tauriel, who had been polite enough to give her friend a chance to think, now gathered all her courage and said, "Morgoth abducted some of the first Quendi from the forest of Cuiviénen and tortured them until all the good that Eru had sown in them turned into evil."

"Wiseacre!" Legolas whispered into her ear, but Thranduil had keen hearing and threw a disapproving glare at his offspring.

"Indeed, Tauriel," he said to the girl, who could not decide whether to be proud or embarrassed. "Morgoth could not create life himself, so he mutilated Ilúvatar's creatures in mockery of him. Everything the Quendi love, the Orcs hate, but most of all they hate themselves," Thranduil lectured, gazing into the air as if he was reading from the pages of a history book in his mind.

Tauriel's quill raced over the paper, then it suddenly stopped. "It's a sad story, isn't it?" she reasoned. "They must be suffering if all they can do is hate." Both the king and the prince turned to her in astonishment.

Legolas protested, "You can't pity them, Tauriel, they're Orcs!" He looked at his father for support, but Thranduil seemed to ponder the appropriate answer.

He finally said, "You are right, it is indeed a sad story. But if you had ever seen an Orc decapitate one of your comrades and drink the blood from his neck, you would probably feel differently." There was no bitterness in his voice, his tone was perfectly neutral.

The children's expressions reflected their shock. Thranduil did not regret his phrasing – like his own father, he had always believed in a rather straightforward style of parenting, especially when there was an opportunity to shape his heir's attitude towards the enemy.

Legolas was the first to overcome the impression his father's words had left. "So, they're cannibals?" he asked.

"Most certainly they are," the king confirmed with a nod. "I have even seen them eating their own kind."

Tauriel was still petrified, but Legolas nudged her with his elbow to remind her of her task. She blinked a few times and started writing again.

A new question came to Legolas' mind. "If they descend from the same people we do – does that mean that Orcs possess the Gift of the Valar?"

Thranduil hesitated; he clearly did not know what to say and felt uncomfortable about it. He cleared his throat. "Well, they obviously do not go to the Halls of Mandos to wait for their reincarnation after they die. But what happens to them unless they are eventually killed in battle or by their own kin, I do not know. I believe that the first Orcs might have been immortal, but the ones that came into life afterwards may very likely die of natural causes at some point. However, what I know for certain is that they are fairly hard to kill."

Now the children, especially Legolas, were keen to learn more about that topic. "How do you do that? Are there any special methods?" he inquired.

The king took a moment to decide whether this was an appropriate topic for children, but eventually he resolved that it could only benefit the inhabitants of the Woodland Realm to learn important life lessons such as this one at an early age. "The safest way would always be to behead them," he explained without any emotion whatsoever. "If you cannot do that, for whatever reason, try to knock them off their feet, preferably by slicing through their legs…"

Tauriel wrote everything down and when the king was done with his detailed statements on the most efficient ways of butchering Orcs, she proudly acknowledged that her piece of paper contained a collection of horror stories without equal.

* * *

><p>"Amril, what do you know about Orcs?" Tauriel sat next to her foster brother at the kitchen table with Legolas beside her. This time he was in charge of the writing. Amril looked up from his book. He had recently started his medical training at the Houses of Healing and used every spare minute to study.<p>

"Not much," he answered and scratched his head, "only that they like to poison their weapons and that the wounds they cause can be difficult to treat. They may be stupid as Trolls, but they're cunning when it comes to inventing nasty poisons." He threw a confused look at the scribbling Legolas, but Tauriel encouraged him to continue. "Belegor told me that once he had to amputate a soldier's forearm because of a cut with an Orc blade. He said it was so contaminated that the blood had clotted inside the vessels and the skin around the wound was almost black. I also think I've read somewhere that their teeth are toxic. If they bite you and you don't get the right treatment, your flesh basically rots off."

Nimiel, who had been listening silently while peeling an apple until then, put her knife on the table and shook her head in disapproval. "Amril, stop that! They are children, for Eru's sake!"

Tauriel protested, "I'm almost sixty!" and was joined by Legolas, who contributed, "And I'm already seventy-one! Besides, this is a school research project."

Nimiel shrugged. "Very well then, although I do not recall learning things like this during my school time in Doriath." The three younger elves refrained from any comments on Nimiel's age and the resulting differences in childhood education.

Nimiel listened to Amril's account on Orc teeth for another good while, her frown becoming deeper with every word he said, until she finally weighed in a second time, "Excuse me, ion nin, but I cannot bear this! If you are going to tell them horror stories, at least make sure they are medically correct!" Amril's face turned crimson and he preferred to bury it in his book again. Nimiel had not meant to embarrass him, but whenever someone spread wrong information about her field of expertise, she could not resist the urge to set the facts straight.

"So, listen: Orc teeth are not toxic as such. They are simply infested by so many germs that their bites can cause infections that are indeed complicated to treat, as Amril has told you. Unless the wound is disinfected immediately and the patient is given a strengthening cure every twelve hours for at least one week, Orc bites can lead to a terrible fever and all sorts of unpleasant reactions." She paused a moment to give Legolas a chance to keep up with his notes – being in charge of most of the teaching at the houses of healing, she was obviously used to that situation. "I had a patient once," she continued, "whose entire face swelled up and turned pale and cold like a dead body due to an Orc bite."

Now even Amril came back from his dive in the book. "What did you do with him?" he wanted to know.

"Well, I used half the athelas in the forest on him until the infection was gone. But the most disgusting thing I have ever seen regarding Orc wounds was that one soldier back in the Second Age, who came in with half his leg cut off and the morgul axe still in it…"

Tauriel and Legolas leaned back and looked at each other in deep satisfaction. The two healers were even easier sources of information than the king had been. The children just sat there and listened, eventually taking turns with the note-keeping. Now they were finally confident that their contribution to the Peoples of Arda project would indeed be unique.

* * *

><p>Nimiel made her way along the forest path that led to the clearing with her little herb plantation. She could see riders approaching and took a step aside to let them pass. It was a unit of the Border Guard, led by Captain Rochanar himself, and next to him she noticed the king on his unmistakable sand coloured horse. She bowed as he rode past her, but when he recognised her, he gave the Captain a sign to continue, stopped his horse and dismounted.<p>

"Lady Nimiel," he greeted her, "may I inquire after the business that leads you to the forest all by yourself?"

"I am going to pick some herbs."

"Then allow me to accompany you to the clearing. It is not wise to walk alone, not even a distance as short as this." He turned his horse around and they started their way.

"How is your shoulder?" Nimiel remembered to inquire.

The king bowed his head and replied, "Much better, thanks to your excellent care. Not even a week has passed since the Orc attack and it is almost as good as new."

Nimiel smiled at the compliment on her skills and shushed herself for thinking that she deserved every bit of it. But the king's mentioning of the Orc attack reminded her of another subject: "My lord, the question may be silly but… Did you happen to receive a letter from Legolas' teacher?"

The king looked surprised. "Not that I recall, but Galion may have dealt with it without telling me. Why are you asking?"

"Well…" Nimiel was looking for the best way to phrase the issue. "I received one two days ago, concerning Legolas and Tauriel's questionable contribution to a project. Apparently they must have given a completely improper presentation about the race of Orcs."

Thranduil stopped short and tilted his head. "A presentation?" he asked, "In front of their class? And the teacher?"

Nimiel nodded. "Indeed. I have to admit that I am not entirely blameless of this matter. Without knowing that it would turn into a presentation, I told them a few stories about the healing of wounds caused by Orcs that may have been somewhat… explicit."

"You did?" To Nimiel's surprise the king started chuckling. "My lady, I am relieved to hear it. I was beginning to think that it was my, uhm, graphic account on slaying Orcs in battle alone that irritated the poor teacher."

Nimiel looked at him in astonishment. "So, we're both culprits," she stated and Thranduil confirmed, "Guilty as charged." There was a substantial silence before Nimiel concluded with a troubled expression, "That probably withdraws both of us from the competition for the Parents of the Century award…"

The watchman standing on his post at the next road junction could do nothing but frown and shake his head at the unusual and fairly inappropriate sight of the king and the head of the healing quarters walking by and laughing their heads off.


	5. Green Fireflies

"Come on, Ada, it's my begetting day after all!" Legolas leaned on his father's desk and showed him the most endearing and innocent face he could manage – an art he had perfected over the years, as he was well aware. "If I have to spend the whole evening at that formal reception, please let me at least bring one guest of my own."

The king looked up from his paperwork, put down the quill and breathed deeply. They had been through this before. "Legolas, you are turning one hundred years old and it is high time you start to behave like an adult. Formal receptions, as tiresome as they might appear to you, are something you may as well get used to. It is an honour for you to receive the congratulations of so many highly renowned people."

"I know," Legolas groaned, "and I feel very honoured and flattered and grateful and everything." The king raised an eyebrow. "But I have never even talked to most of them," the prince continued. "What harm can possibly come from having one other person my age there?"

Thranduil looked at his son with a sarcastic expression that loosely translated to 'Where would you like me to begin?'

Legolas grasped his father's meaning and returned to plan A. "I promise we will be at our best behaviour. You won't even recognise us. As docile as two petrified trolls." He smiled from one ear to the other.

The king massaged his temples and sighed. "Very well then, invite her. But if I see the two of you concocting any mischief whatsoever…"

"Don't worry, Ada! Thank you!" He was already halfway to the door.

* * *

><p>And so it happened that Tauriel stood alone in a corner of the Hall of Crystal, feeling more awkward than she ever had before. She twisted the smooth fabric of her dress between her fingers and did not know what to do with herself. Looking around, she saw dozens of elegant, dignified people, who were engaged in the bizarre choreography of social protocol. They seemed perfectly at ease, but for Tauriel it was like an expedition to a strange new world.<p>

She had not spoken to Legolas so far, as he was busy greeting the guests and making small talk. She caught glimpses of him occasionally and could not help but wonder how naturally and gracefully her friend manoeuvred through this situation. Tauriel often forgot that the world he came from was completely different from hers. He looked very grown-up and unsettlingly royal that evening, blending in perfectly with the crowd, whereas she, the little Silvan wearing one of her foster mother's dresses and chewing nervously on her lip, felt like a bat in the middle of a swarm of butterflies.

A servant came by with a tray full of glasses and offered her one. She took it and thanked him with a shy smile, which seemed to confuse him as he walked on. Now at least she had something to hold on to and could pretend to be busy whenever someone looked her way.

As the evening progressed, Tauriel eventually found a spot where she could quietly observe the spectacle in the hall without being in anyone's way. As she was about to contemplate a huge painting on the wall next to her, she suddenly felt an uncomfortable tickle on her shoulder. She turned her head and could only just stop herself from squeaking at the sight of the tiny black spider that was crawling along her collar. She quickly wiped it away and turned around, glaring into Legolas' face. "Why would you do that, for Eru's sake? You know I hate spiders."

"Exactly, and your face was priceless," the prince replied. Then he frowned, assessing her from head to toe with a sceptical look. "Wait a moment – who are you and what have you done to Tauriel?"

"What are you talking about?"

He tried to look serious. "Forgive me my astonishment but you actually look like… an elleth!"

Tauriel rolled her eyes and whispered, "If I could move properly in this dress, I would punch you right now."

"I know, that's why I'm savouring the moment," he chuckled.

Tauriel reached into her pocket between the abundant pleats and layers of her skirt and produced a small wooden box. "Before I forget – happy hundredth, snob!"

Legolas took the box and opened it. It contained a tiny wooden figure, half covered with washed out purple watercolour. It took him a moment to recognise it, but then he could hardly believe what he saw. "Are you serious? I had no idea this still existed. Thank you, this is probably the most personal gift I've ever got." He gave her a spontaneous hug that caught her by surprise. He did not seem to care about the bewildered looks of some people around them.

Tauriel smiled a little awkwardly and explained, "It was still at the Houses of Healing. I found it when I was volunteering there during the summer and I asked Nimiel if I could give it to you. So you won't forget me when you go to Imladris next month."

Legolas tilted his head and frowned. "As if I would forget you. And please don't remind me of Imladris. I'm afraid Lord Elrond will make me read history books and ancient poetry in Quenya all day until I talk as stiltedly as him. And Arwen is so patronising – she treats me like a fifty year-old-elfling. I'm really coming to appreciate Ada's approach to parenting: Most of the time he has no clue where I am or what I'm doing."

His eyes searched the crowd for his father. When he could not find him anywhere, his expression turned mischievous. "Speaking of which… As I see it, this is as exciting as this party is going to get. How about we make a discreet disappearance?"

Tauriel shook her head decisively. "No way! If your father finds out..."

"He's had five glasses of Dorwinion already, he won't even notice. Besides, I've done my duty: I've said at least one meaningless courtesy to everyone and by now most of them are only interested in the buffet anyway."

Legolas looked at her with that infuriatingly charming half grin he used whenever he wanted to convince her to do something forbidden. She hated herself for it, but nine times out of ten it worked on her. "Come on, since when are you such a bore?" he teased her. But Tauriel still hesitated, so the prince decided to play dirty. He said the one phrase that always won her over because it touched her weakest spot – her pride. "I dare you!"

* * *

><p>"Where are we going?" Tauriel whispered as she followed Legolas through the coppice, trying not to tear Nimiel's dress. They had left the palace unseen – over the years they had developed various strategies to avoid the guards – and entered the forest.<p>

"I want to show you something," he simply said and walked on. Tauriel sighed, cursing herself for giving in to yet another one of her friend's childish plans. Finishing school and starting "prince boot camp", as he called it, had obviously not made him any more mature so far.

Tauriel was not at all comfortable with the idea of venturing so far away from the palace without anyone knowing where they were. She preferred to stay within the safe radius that was protected by the Palace Guard. There were patrol units in the more remote parts of the forest as well, but Tauriel had experienced once before that it was not wise to rely on their help.

At least Legolas had brought his bow and daggers, just in case, but mostly because it was an actual law of the Woodland Realm never to enter the forest unarmed. He had gained some experience in fighting during the last years and apparently he had already acquired renown for his proficiency. Tauriel knew he was an excellent archer – in fact, he had been her only competition regarding the highest hit rate in archery class at school. Yes, she was good at shooting too, but she had never actually aimed at anything else than wooden targets. The possibility that there could be far more animate and dangerous creatures in close proximity gave her a queasy feeling in her stomach.

After about half an hour of working their way through bushes and trees, they reached a cliff overseeing the Forest River. It was one of the few places in Greenwood where no trees blocked the sky. The clearing was bathed in pale moonlight and some stars peeked through the thin layer of clouds.

"What now?" Tauriel asked and picked some dry leaves off her dress.

Legolas sat down, put his bow and quiver aside and said, "Now we wait."

"For what?" Tauriel wanted to know, but he did not tell her. So she sat down beside him and they spent the next ten minutes in silence, contemplating the night sky and listening to the steady sound of the river.

Suddenly a flicker of green light appeared a few feet above the water, followed by a second and a third one, until a whole swarm of tiny glowing dots illuminated the river valley. Tauriel had never seen so many fireflies in one place and she could not take her eyes off the mesmerising spectacle. The fireflies whirled around in a frantic dance, like a savage mirror image of the steady silver starlight in the sky. Tauriel was completely absorbed in her contemplation and her worry about the dangers of the forest was forgotten. Legolas looked at her with a grin. "I told you it was worth the long walk."

Then, from one moment to another, the lights vanished. At first Tauriel did not realise what had made them disappear, but when she turned her eyes to Legolas, she suddenly saw it: He was staring over his shoulder in alarm, reaching for his daggers. A giant black spider came crawling towards them from the shadows of the trees, pale eyes fixed on them, fangs clicking greedily.

Tauriel's senses abruptly stopped working. She had not faced the horror of her childhood since the day it had killed her family. A wave of long suppressed memories flooded her brain. Darkness. Pain. Screams. She could not move one muscle in her body.

The creature approached them. From the corner of her eyes Tauriel saw Legolas jump to his feet, draw his knives and attack it. He stung one blade into the spider's throat, but obviously he had not hit the right spot because the beast shrieked in pain and fury, reared up and struck him with a stiff-bristled leg. He fell over and a moment later the creature was above him, trying to paralyse him with a bite of its poisonous fangs. He thrust his dagger upwards between the spider's jaws, so the fangs could not close, but there was no way for him to escape.

"Tauriel, help me!" he shouted. "Take the damn bow and shoot it!" His voice sounded like an echo from far away, but somehow it managed to break her trance. Her hands were trembling and her heartbeat was pounding in her ears when she took up Legolas' bow, drew an arrow and aimed at the spider.

Suddenly the world around her seemed to slow down. The sound of the river, the moonlight, her friend's voice – everything faded away. A strange coldness spread in her mind and covered up the panic. She was perfectly focussed and calm. There was only her, the bow and the target.

She released the arrow into a flawless trajectory and it pierced one of the spider's eyes. The beast gave a final shriek and collapsed, barely giving Legolas a chance to duck away before its massive body hit the ground.

He got up, caught his breath and pulled his dagger out of the dead creature's jaw. "You took your time," he stated and a smile of relief spread over his face. "Good shot, by the way."

Tauriel was just realising what had happened. She looked at the cadaver, then at the bow in her hand, and the cold calmness gave way to an adrenalin rush that made her blood boil in her veins.

That was when the other five spiders burst out of the shadows.

* * *

><p>"Meldis nín, I think you should consider a career with the Guard." Legolas plucked the last arrow out of a spider's throat. His daggers were dripping with thick, dark blood and there were red splashes all over his elegant grey tunic.<p>

Tauriel did not look much better. For lack of alternatives she had used an arrow to stab one of the beasts that had come too close to be shot. Now Nimiel's beautiful dress was drenched in spider blood and Tauriel had lost all hope of concealing their forbidden trip to the forest.

She gave Legolas a disbelieving look. "The Guard? Of course, as if I would like to spend eternity creeping through the forest and slaughtering disgusting things." She rolled her eyes at Legolas, who was shaking the blood off his blades with two quick swings.

Tauriel returned his bow and quiver to him, then she turned away. She did not want to face him because he had an impeccable talent for guessing her thoughts. In that moment she was scared and repulsed at the same time. Only it was not because of the blood on her dress or the stinking carcasses on the ground – it was because of herself. She had taken the lives of those creatures. However abhorrent they were, whatever they had done to deserve her hate – did she have the right to end another being's life? Tauriel felt as if something pure and innocent had broken inside her soul.

But the guilt was not the worst part. What scared her even more was the fact that the fighting and killing had not felt as horrible as it should have. A small part of her had not been entirely averse to the coldness in her mind and the heat in her blood when her arrows had pierced the flesh of the beasts. The truth was that it had felt strangely natural, like something her senses and her body had been waiting to do for a long time without her mind knowing. It was a disgusting thought and she did her best to push it away.

"Let's go home. And next time you want to 'show me something', remind me to run for it!"


	6. Chestnut Horses

Mellon nín,

I hope you are fine over there in Imladris and Lord Elrond still hasn't managed to turn you into a proper, respectable prince.

If the messenger is not detained or eaten by trolls, it must be around mid-July when you receive this letter. I cannot believe you have already been there for almost a year! I remember last summer and somehow I still feel bad about hardly being able to talk to you during your last weeks at home because of all the hours Nimiel made me work at the healing quarters' laundry after our "adventure" in the forest. I see her point in punishing me and I know it must have scared the living daylights out of her when I came home all drenched in blood, but I still regret the time I had to spend scrubbing disgusting things off white bed sheets, knowing that you would soon be gone for such a long time.

It's a shame the messenger only rides to Imladris every three months. If it wasn't far too much to ask, I would want you to tell me absolutely everything you have seen and learned since the last time you wrote to me. It must be amazing to explore places so far away from home and I'm so jealous it's not even funny anymore.

Thank you for the beautiful drawings (although I don't believe for a moment that you did them all yourself). If this is really what Imladris looks like, I finally understand why most travellers from there turn up their noses at the Woodland Palace. I bet they don't have gloomy subterranean chambers with crude rock walls and bridges carved from petrified tree roots. In the pictures everything seems so refined and sophisticated. But as much as I would love to see Imladris one day, I have to say it all looks a little overdone and impractical to me.

Here in the palace everything is basically the same. Your father is still as grumpy as he always was. I don't see much of him, let alone speak to him, but judging by the worn-out face Galion carries around, he hasn't become any more cheerful in your absence. There is also a rumour that last week he got so annoyed with the Chief of Guards, he actually threw a glass of wine in his face! No wonder that poor fellow looks so grim all the time. With the weird creatures creeping around the forest and a king with a bad temper, his must be the most ungrateful position at the whole court. Anyway, if you ask me, your father misses you a lot and simply needed an opportunity to let out all the energy he usually spends on keeping you in line.

Speaking of family – guess what: Amril got engaged! He finally summoned the courage to propose to Eilianneth, and now we're waiting for them to set a wedding date for next spring. It's a pity you won't be back by then. Nimiel pretends to be all happy and excited, but both Amril and I can see that she's getting a little melancholic about him leaving home and starting his own life.

I honestly hope she will get over it and not try to compensate by focussing her whole maternal instinct on me. Nimiel is wonderful and you know how much I love her, but she could really give me some room to breathe from time to time. Now that I'm about to finish school, I seriously need to come up with an idea of what to do afterwards – but I don't have to tell you that, you've heard me complain about it often enough, haven't you? Anyway, Nimiel is starting to worry about it more than I do.

Of course the Houses of Healing are an option. The work there is demanding and interesting and I would have Nimiel and Amril to help me, but somehow I can't picture myself as a healer – can you? I'm afraid that instead of being gentle and patient all the time, I would just tell everyone to pull themselves together and stop whining. (I know you're laughing right now, don't even try to deny it!)

There is another idea that I can't get out of my head. It was you who put it there, by the way, thanks a lot! Would it be completely absurd, stupid and ridiculous if I applied for the Guard? (Of course it would and I can picture you laughing even more now.)

I talked to one of Amril's former schoolmates who is with the Guard now, and what she told me did not sound half as scary as I expected. She says she spends a lot of time standing sentry around the palace or patrolling the main forest paths. Sometimes she also accompanies travelling parties outside the realm. She has been to Erebor, imagine that! Of course she comes across spiders and Orcs every now and then, but I honestly prefer getting beaten up once in a while to spending my whole life in one place and doing the exact same work with the exact same people every day.

So I think I'm going to take the entrance test; they can't do more than reject me, can they? It takes place at the end of July, so the next time you hear from me, I'll probably tell you about my glorious failure. I haven't even talked to Nimiel about it yet because she would drop dead at the mere thought of me doing anything dangerous. Mellon nín, I really wish you were here to make fun of my lunatic plans…

I'm just noticing that this letter is turning into a novel, like the ones before, so I should stop rambling and start completing the orders of all the people who want me to give you their regards. (Seriously, can't they just write their own letters?)

First of all, Nimiel wishes you all the best and hopes that everyone is treating you well – so basically the same she always says. Imagine a hug and some homemade biscuits along with it and you'll get the picture.

Amril just says hello this time because he is doing lots of overtime. Besides, now that they're engaged, Eilianneth makes him visit all of her three hundred and seventy-eight point five relatives.

The next one in line is Berion. He would like to know if it's true that the sword of Elendil is lying around somewhere in Imladris and he wants you to touch the blade for him to see if it's really still sharp. (Don't ask me! You know he has always been a little out of it and he has become even weirder since he started working in his father's smithy. I think it's the hot fumes.)

Last but not least, I have greetings from Nemireth. She still inquires after you regularly and always refers to you as "the prince" or even "His Highness". Technically that's correct, I know, but then I remember how she used to tell us off as little elflings and it sounds really odd to me.

So, mellon nín, I hope you have a wonderful summer. I'm sending you a big hug and I'm looking forward to reading your horrible handwriting again soon.

Lots of love,

Tauriel

PS: In case you're wondering about the cherry stone in the envelope – it's from that one tree near the river bend where we used to steal cherries every year. I figured that a whole cherry wouldn't survive the long journey, but I wanted to keep up the tradition.

* * *

><p>Meldis nín,<p>

It is my fondest hope that thou beest in excellent health as well as of high spirits…

No, this isn't going to work at all, so I'll better turn off the Elrond mode. But I have to say that I'm getting fairly good at it, don't you think?

Thank you for the cherry stone; it was a sweet gesture as I really missed stealing cherries with you this summer. At first I didn't realise it was actually meant to be in the envelope and I dropped it in the grass. I'm sure you can picture me cursing and looking for it as soon as I understood what it was. The best part was when Arwen came out and saw me. Anyway, now the young lady of Imladris knows who you are and that both of us are convicted cherry thieves.

Before I tell you any news of mine, I want you to know that I absolutely support your idea of applying for the Guard. Why should it be ridiculous? I was serious when I said it that night in the forest and I still think it would be perfect for you. So, did you take the entrance test? If the answer is yes, I don't really need to ask about the outcome, do I? What are they looking for if it's not someone who can shoot flying arrows out of the air and kill spiders in a ball gown? I regret not being home because we could have done some training together before the test, but I guess it wasn't necessary anyway.

Please pass my congratulations to Amril and Eilianneth. It sure took them a while, didn't it? I'm afraid I won't be back for their wedding, although I really would have liked to be there.

For me things haven't changed much during the last few weeks. Well, except that it got really hot down here in the valley and I caught the sunburn of my life. Half the skin on my face is peeling off and I look like an Orc with chicken pox, but I guess that's no wonder after a hundred years in a shady forest.

I still do a lot of reading in the library. It is amazing; you would fall in love with it at first sight and never come out again, so I can't decide whether I want you to see it or not. Lindir, who is basically Lord Elrond's Galion, though a lot more uptight than our old friend at home, watches my every movement when I'm there. I once tried to tell him a joke, but he was so utterly irritated that I gave up hope before even getting to the punchline. He's a decent fellow but a little exhausting at times. Lady Celebrían jokes that he is the secret ruler of Imladris and that he knows about absolutely everything that happens around here.

I've already told you about Lord Elrond himself and I'm glad he's still as patient with me as he was when I first arrived. He's very demanding, but I'm grateful for that as well because if he didn't make me read so much, I would probably never have discovered how fascinating the history of our people is. I'm finally getting the hang of ancient Quenya too, though I don't really see the point in learning it.

What is far more useful to me right now is the basic bits of Common Tongue we learned at school. It helps me communicate with the people from all over Arda who come to Imladris. I've told you about the four Edain from Gondor and the strange fellow in the grey cloak before. He actually turned out to be an Istar named Mithrandir, who knows my father and visits the odd brown-cloaked eremite in our forest sometimes. Now I've also seen several Edain from the West and their culture seems to be very different from what we know about the Lakemen of Esgaroth. Do you remember that school project on the peoples of Arda that we did about thirty years ago? Looking back at it now, it was simply ridiculous because you can't possibly learn things like that from books. (We did it right then, didn't we, asking our two self-taught experts? I won't say I told you…)

Speaking of which: I almost forgot to tell you about the scariest but also the most exciting event of last month. Elladan and Elrohir took me on a hunting trip and on our way back to the valley we were attacked by a pack of twelve Orcs. Not too dramatic so far – I still maintain my point that spiders are worse, but of course no one here will believe me – until my bow broke. Yes, you read correctly, my bloody Imladris-made hunting bow just broke right in the middle of the fight. It wasn't funny at all and for a moment I really thought my number was up. But thanks to Elladan, Elrohir and my loyal Greenwood-forged blades I'm still here. So, my friend and hopefully future member of the Guard, if you value your life, never economise on the quality of your weapons. There is one good thing about that story though: At least now Lord Glorfindel (the one who slew the Balrog and came back from the halls of Mandos – I still can't get over that, it's downright creepy) has stopped making fun of my daggers.

I'm afraid I have to finish writing now because I promised Arwen to help her train her new horse. It's a gorgeous chestnut mare, though a little too fiery for our delicate young lady. I cannot possibly tell you how much I don't want to do it. She won't listen to my advice anyway and, honestly, what does she have two brothers for? But I guess I should be grateful for everything Lord Elrond's family is doing for me, so I'll have to grin and bear it.

Please pass my greetings to Nimiel and Nemireth. As for Berion: You can tell him yes, the shards of Narsil are still here and no, I didn't touch them because it would be disrespectful (and because it would bleed like mad, but it will be enough if you tell him the respect thing).

My dear friend, it always makes me happy to hear from you and I wish I could support you by more than just writing to you. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that everything will turn out fine for you – but you know that, don't you?

The hug you sent me was very much appreciated and I'm reciprocating the favour by sending you two in return.

Take care!

Legolas


	7. Silver Oliphaunts

The air was thick and humid and the shadows beneath the twisted trunks of the ancient oaks and beeches were whispering sad stories and luring promises of death. The prince shook off the dangerous weariness that befell him whenever his mind stopped being vigilant for a moment. He wondered how much the whispers of the forest were affecting him; he did not remember their influence on him being so strong. But after all, he had not set foot on the bewitching paths of Greenwood for four long years.

His horse pranced nervously; it clearly felt the same way as its rider about the strange place it had been led to. "Easy, mellon," Legolas mumbled and padded the horse's dark brown neck.

The two of them had been through a long journey together. After leaving Imladris, the prince had decided not to return home immediately but to take the opportunity to see a little more of the world. First he had accompanied Lady Celebrían and her travelling party on their way to Lothlórien, where she was going to spend some time with her parents. After staying there for a while, instead of turning north in direction of his homeland, he had joined a group of Galadhrim messengers on their southward journey to the realms of Men.

He had drunk in the sight of every single wondrous place he had laid eyes on, but at some point his heart had told him that it was time to return home. So, with another short delay in Lothlórien, he had made his way back to the Woodland Realm.

The two soldiers Lord Celeborn had appointed to accompany him had taken their leave at the edge of the forest. Legolas had dismissed them there because it had been obvious that neither of them was too eager to enter the dark paths. The prince knew the dangers of his homeland and he was confident that the treacherous forest would not harm him. He had already come across a unit of the Border Guard, so he felt quite safe despite the numbing atmosphere. It was noon, but the sun hardly got through the thick layers of leaves.

Legolas stopped his horse and dismounted. He felt the need to walk a few steps in order to stay awake. The horse followed him obediently without him having to hold the reins.

Suddenly he perceived a quick movement right in front of his face. Before his mind even realised it was an arrow, his hand automatically reached for his own bow. The horse baulked and took a few hectic sideway steps away from the tree trunk where the arrow had landed. Legolas tried to detect the source of the attack, but he could not see anything in the shadows under the trees.

"Look who's back!" A familiar voice coming from above made him wince, but a moment later his muscles relaxed, he let his bow sink and a smile spread over his face.

"I should have known it," he said, watching Tauriel emerge from between the leaves of a giant oak, swiftly climb down the branches and come to a stand in front of him.

She looked different from what he remembered: Her hair was pulled back by some simple but elegant braids. Her face had lost much of its former soft innocence and her features were more defined now, showing a trait of determination he did not recognise. The dark green uniform of the Forest Guard made her look taller and the bow and daggers she carried emphasised the new air of fierceness that was about her.

"What?" she asked with a grin and an arched eyebrow. Legolas had not realised he had been staring at her.

He quickly shook off his astonishment and answered, "You have changed. I said goodbye to a girl and I'm welcomed back by a warrior. Although I have to admit the green becomes you."

Her smile became bigger and she replied, "What am I supposed to say then? You look different, too. I almost feel like calling you 'Your Highness'." He could see the familiar hint of mischief in her eyes and it melted away the slight awkwardness of the situation.

"Don't you dare! Do I need to worry about getting punched if I try to hug you?"

"Take your chances," she laughed, flung her arms around his neck and gave him a solid squeeze with her leather vambraces. The warm scent of wood and forest flowers clinging to her made him feel at home.

"I can't believe I've been gone for four years." Only in that very moment Legolas fully realised how long it had been and how long it actually felt, now that he was back. He shook his head in disbelief. "Meldis nín, I think I'm going to miss travelling a lot, but seeing you again, with all these bits of tree bark in your hair and the mud stains on your face, I feel like nothing has changed."

"Not much, really," Tauriel gave back with a grin, trying unsuccessfully to wipe the mud off her cheek while she pulled her arrow out of the tree trunk.

"Some time has passed since the last time we heard from each other. So tell me, are you already a regular member of the Guard?" Legolas wanted to know as they started walking.

She shook her head. "Not yet. I'm a recruit on probation, which means that I'm part of a unit and have the same duties as my comrades, but with a lot of supervision by the corporal, and one week per month is still entirely dedicated to training. I have to go through every field of Guard duties before I'm sworn into office, and forest patrol is my last one. So hopefully by the end of the year I'll officially be a soldier." She did not try to hide how proud she was and Legolas felt genuinely happy for her.

She asked him about the last stations of his journey and so he started talking about Rohan and Gondor, about the places he had seen and the people he had met, and Tauriel could not help but ask a thousand questions, which he tried to answer as best he could. It really felt like in the old days when the two of them had roamed the forest together, talking about all and sundry.

After following the path for a good while, they suddenly heard voices in the coppice next to them. "Tauriel?" A call came from between the trees.

Tauriel's face instantly froze. "Damn, I completely forgot that I was supposed to report to the corporal by now. I haven't been with the unit for long, so he doesn't trust me as far as he can throw me. So much for my intention to prove him wrong…" She took a deep breath, straightened up and turned towards the approaching voices.

Three guards emerged from the coppice. One of them – Legolas recognised him as the corporal by his uniform – looked very alarmed. "Tauriel, what are you…" He stopped at the sight of the prince. "Your Highness," he said with a bow, slightly irritated, but he immediately regained control of his expression, "Beg your pardon." He turned to Tauriel and with a jerk of his head he signalled her to step aside with him. "I thought I made it clear that you were expected to report to me every three hours," he hissed.

Her shoulders slumped but she did not drop her gaze. "I'm sorry, I lost track of the time."

The corporal threw a short glance at Legolas before turning back towards Tauriel, and his face reflected the agitation he was suppressing. "If you do this one more time, you will spend the next two months at the gate. I value discipline in my unit and negligence will not be tolerated."

"Yes, Corporal." Tauriel bowed her head and Legolas watched her cheeks turn crimson.

He could not hold back any longer and interjected, "Corporal, I am afraid it was my fault. I detained your recruit from her duties and I apologise."

The officer clearly did not know what to say, so after a short pause he answered, "Not at all. Your Highness, may I send one of my other soldiers to accompany you to the palace?"

Legolas declined. He understood perfectly well that this was a politely phrased way of bidding him good riddance. He caught Tauriel's look; it was a silent plea for him to leave.

So he mounted his horse again, while the corporal ordered the two guards who had arrived with him to return to their posts. Legolas saw them vanish between the trees when he started his way, an uneasy feeling in his stomach.

Before the next turn of the path, he threw a look back at Tauriel and the corporal. They were speaking to each other in hushed voices, but he caught a few words. "Relax, Fiondir, nothing happened, for Eru's sake!" "I thought you had been eaten by spiders! You scared me to death!" Legolas wondered for a moment, but he thought it best to stay out of their business.

* * *

><p>"I will do my best not to disappoint you, Adar," Legolas said, trying to sound as confident as possible. He was standing next to Thranduil on one of the three watchtowers overseeing the above-ground part of the palace. Most of the time it was not occupied by watchmen, so the king had claimed it as his personal refuge whenever he was looking for solitude. This morning he had brought Legolas up there to discuss a matter of great importance with him.<p>

The day before he had given his son the opportunity to settle, to catch up with the people he had not seen in a while and to rest after his long journey. Now, however, Legolas sensed that it was time for some serious changes. He still could not believe that the king had just informed him about his plans to get him actively involved in governing the realm. Of course he had always known that this day would come, but now that it was happening, it made him feel completely inadequate.

Thranduil smiled at him – an unusual sight, but Legolas attributed it to both the sunny weather and his father's joy to be reunited with him after such a long time – and he hoped it would last a while. "Ion nín," the king replied, "do not trouble yourself. If you should indeed disappoint me in whatever manner, I must blame myself for not giving you sufficient guidance. We will take small steps and you will not be given any responsibility until you are ready to bear it."

His words reassured Legolas. As intimidating as the king could be at times and as often as Legolas complained about his peculiarities, Thranduil had always been his safe haven and during his absence he had often missed his father's council.

"I deem it best for you to get a deeper knowledge of the realm's defence system first," the king continued. "Therefore I have informed the Chief of Guards that you will assist him in his daily duties. He will take you under his wing and show you how the armed forces are organised."

Legolas was relieved at the prospect of getting to do something he was interested in. He had been afraid to be locked up in a gloomy study for the next decade, but following the captain around would certainly not be too tiresome. Although the old warrior was not known to be a particularly chatty or light-hearted fellow, Legolas got along with him fairly well and was sure to learn a lot from him. The prince knew that he would not be spared the more monotonous parts of the royal everyday work either, but he was grateful that his father was granting him a more pleasant settling-in period.

"How did Rochanar react to the idea of getting a new shadow?" the prince wondered.

Thranduil tilted his head – obviously he had not wasted much thought on the captain's opinion. "He will do as required," he simply replied, but after a pause and a look at his son's uncomfortable expression he added, "You know he has always valued your courage and skill."

A smile spread over Legolas' face. He was not used to his father's praise and especially after their long separation it felt just as good as the warm morning sunrays on his face.

"It's good to be back, Adar," he said after a while.

The king took a moment to react but then he put his arm around his son's shoulder. "I am glad to have you back as well."

* * *

><p>Legolas made his way downstairs to the subterranean training yard below the Guard's quarters. He had spent the last two hours with the captain, who had explained the basic organisational structure of the Woodland Guard to him.<p>

The system was far more complex than he had expected: There was one section that guarded the palace and its surroundings and one that patrolled the forest. The latter was in turn divided into the regular Forest Guard and the Border Guard. Both sections consisted of larger divisions and smaller units and functioned according to a fairly complicated rotational shift system. Legolas had lost the thread various times during the captain's explanation, but he figured that he would grasp the concept soon enough.

Now he was on his way to a more practical appointment: The captain wanted to assess his new apprentice's skill with the blade. As he entered the training yard, he could not help but smile at the memories connected to that place. When he had been a little elfling, his father had taken him down there to teach him the basics of archery and sword fighting. He still remembered how proud he had been when his arrow had hit the mark for the first time and how Thranduil had let him win most of their make-believe duels. Those had been some of the few occasions when he had seen his father laugh.

Legolas looked around. The training yard was an ample cave with walls of crude rock and lots of gigantic stalagmites that almost touched the ceiling. These natural columns were perfect to simulate forest battles. In the centre of the cave there was a large open space that could be used for all kinds of group or individual training. When there were no lessons scheduled, the guards were allowed to use the yard for their own purposes.

The captain had not arrived yet, but Legolas could hear that he was not alone. From between the stalagmites he saw two soldiers training with longswords; to his surprise he recognised Tauriel and the corporal he had met briefly the day before. They had not noticed him yet, so Legolas, being curious to see his friend's swordplay skills, stepped behind a huge stalagmite to observe their duel.

The corporal had just won a round by disarming Tauriel who looked rather demotivated. "Did I mention that I hate the longsword?" she grumbled, picking up her weapon from the floor.

The corporal shook his head. "Not within the last ten minutes. Again?"

"I don't have a choice, do I? I need to learn it somehow…" She sighed, pulling a long face.

"Don't get discouraged. Your last move was very good, except you need to be faster," Legolas heard the corporal say. He was relieved that the officer was talking to Tauriel so patiently, after the unpleasant scene he had witnessed in the forest.

Tauriel lifted her sword and attacked. It was a smooth and focussed stroke that her opponent parried with ease before attacking her in turn. It took him four moves to get her out of her comfort zone and two more to back her up against a stalagmite, his blade on her neck.

"How many times have you killed me by now?" Tauriel asked in a frustrated tone and Legolas could literally see the anger at herself boil up in her. The corporal obviously noticed it as well because he refrained from an answer.

"One more try, agreed?" he suggested. "And this time, even though you think it's ridiculous, imagine I'm an Orc or a Troll or maybe the captain on a really grumpy day."

Tauriel managed a weak grin. "Fine, here we go!"

She took a deep breath, found her attacking position and opened the duel. Legolas counted the strokes and noticed with satisfaction that she was improving. So did the corporal, judging by his face, but his approval of his student's progress obviously distracted him too much from his own defence. Tauriel soon gained the upper hand and eventually managed to disarm him. His sword hit the stone floor with a loud clank that echoed in the cave. He looked down at his hand; even from the distance Legolas could see that it was bleeding.

"Well, I'd say you're getting the hang of it," the corporal stated with a grimace.

Tauriel dropped her sword, took a quick step towards him and stuttered, "I-I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to…"

But she did not get the chance to finish the sentence because the corporal took the opportunity and, in one fluent movement, grabbed her around the waist, threw her on the ground and pinned her down. "Never apologise," he grinned. "Would you say sorry if I were an Orc?"

Tauriel chuckled. "If you were an Orc, there would probably be a lot more things I wouldn't do to you… By the way, you're bleeding on my sleeve."

"And whose fault is that?" he replied, released his grip and helped her back up. "At least my blood wasn't spilt in vain; in this last round you did fantastically."

Tauriel smiled at him. "Thank you – for your patience and your willingness to be my substitute Orc."

"Anytime," he gave back.

Legolas could hardly believe his eyes when he saw what happened next: The corporal pulled Tauriel towards him and kissed her! And as if that was not enough, she obviously seemed to enjoy it. Legolas' astonishment could not have been bigger if a warg had just licked his face. It felt extremely strange to see his childhood friend kiss a man – and judging from what he saw, the two of them had had quite a bit of practice.

Legolas discreetly turned away. Apparently the innocent little girl he had left behind four years ago had grown up. The revelation caught him by surprise, but after all, it was nothing unlikely and he could have expected this to happen some day or another. As far as he was concerned, there was nothing wrong with the idea of his friend being involved in a romantic relationship. It was the fact that the news had hit him without any premonition that irritated him.

The prince's contemplation was brutally interrupted by the sound of heavy footsteps approaching the entrance of the training yard. The Chief of Guards arrived in full armour, carrying various weapons and making lots of noise with all the metal clinging to his body.

"Your Highness," he greeted the prince in his usual loud voice and Legolas could have choked him for revealing his presence to Tauriel and the corporal by addressing him with his title. He managed a nod before glancing back at the two soldiers, who suddenly looked very professional again, collected their weapons and headed toward the exit. Both of them saluted when they passed the captain; the corporal also bowed his head to Legolas, but Tauriel seemed very busy sheathing her sword and carefully avoided eye contact with him.

As soon as they were out of earshot, the captain, who had dropped all his weapons on the floor, gestured towards the exit and asked, "Did you see this recruit? My discovery of the century! I haven't seen such talent with a bow since – well, since you, to be honest. But I don't want to spoil your spirit with too much praise, right?" He slapped Legolas on the shoulder with his plate-sized hand and the prince had to suppress a grimace of pain, which he turned into a half-hearted smile.

"Shall we start with the blades?" the captain asked, pulling two daggers out of the pile on the floor.

"Of course," Legolas managed to agree and drew his own weapons. His mind was still occupied with the memory of Tauriel and the corporal, so he did not feel confident at all to face anyone in a duel, let alone the Chief of Guards himself, who was renowned for his skill as well as his brute force. In his shiny silver armour he looked even more intimidating than usually.

'If this ogre massacres me, it's entirely her fault,' Legolas stated to himself, but passing the blame on to Tauriel did not provide as much comfort as he had hoped.

* * *

><p>When he dragged himself to the courtyard, Legolas was feeling both the physical pain and the embarrassment of his miserably failed duel with the captain. Rochanar had defeated him in a mercilessly unspectacular way and managed to break half the bones in his body in the process – or at least that was what it felt like. His performance had been far below his usual level and he still resented himself for being so distracted by the scene he had witnessed before the captain's arrival. For the moment, all he wanted to do was to hide away for the next two to three centuries.<p>

Having fulfilled his duties for the day, he decided that the best way to soothe his pain and take his mind off the embarrassment was to retreat to the library and start reading up on the theoretical foundations of military strategies. The shortest way to get there led past the entrance of the armoury. And who, of all the people he did not wish to see in that particular moment, was standing there, trying to catch the last rays of sunlight of the evening?

"Meldis nín," he addressed her, making an effort to sound indifferent. Tauriel, who had not noticed him until then, span around and gave him a look that was surprise, insecurity and pretended innocence all at once.

"What happened to you?" she asked with a raised eyebrow. "You look as if you had been trampled by a herd of Mûmakil."

"That particular Mûmak turned out to be Rochanar," Legolas replied dryly. "Apparently my training session did not go half as well as yours."

Tauriel assessed him with a sceptical look and although she did not respond, Legolas could read from her face that she knew exactly where this conversation was going. He was determined to provoke a reaction, so he simply rambled on, "The best part is that now the Chief of Guards thinks I have the sword skill of a one-armed Cave Troll and most likely my father will have heard of it by tonight as well."

"I'm sorry to hear it," Tauriel mumbled. "Next time you'll be prepared." Legolas noticed that she obviously saw through his little mind game and, being as stubborn as she had always been, was not willing to play along.

So he abandoned the subtlety altogether and moved right on to the subject. "I saw how the corporal kissed you in the training yard."

Her expression did not change a lot and she simply answered, "Obviously."

Now that he had spilt it out, Legolas was not sure how to proceed. "Uhm, yes, well… Does he do that often?" Before he had even finished the sentence, he noticed how stupid it sounded.

So did Tauriel and tried very hard not to burst out laughing. "Occasionally, yes," she replied.

Legolas crossed his arms and gazed at her, trying to maintain a stern expression. "So, in all those letters you wrote to me, you couldn't spare one line to tell me that you had a suitor?"

She shrugged. "It's not like that…" Clearly the topic made her uncomfortable, but Legolas did not feel as gracious as to drop it yet. A small and very mean part of him enjoyed picking on her.

"I'm no expert, but that kiss looked a lot 'like that' to me."

"Look," Tauriel tried to explain, her face slowly but steadily turning red, "it's nothing… official. We're not engaged or anything." She was thoroughly examining her fingernails now.

Legolas could not help but chuckle at her embarrassment. "Nothing official, I see. So much for Nimiel's selfless efforts to turn you into a lady."

Her elbow hit him right on the spot where Rochanar's sword handle had left a bruise not half an hour before and he gasped in pain.

"Don't even try to make me believe that you go by that whole antiquated Second Age morality," Tauriel hissed in his ear. Legolas thought about the black-haired harp player in Minas Tirith and decided to drop the subject.

Instead he muttered, "I'm surprised you didn't tell me. I thought, us being friends, you would at least mention things like that to me."

Tauriel's face softened and she answered, "Well, I guess I didn't want to shout it from the rooftops. It wouldn't be the wisest move, as long as I'm a recruit with his unit. I'm sorry." She offered him a shy smile that made her look once again like the young girl he had known before, and his discomfort melted.

"You're right," he said, "I just always thought I would be around when men started to queue up for your attention. And that I would be there to beat up anyone who didn't treat you as well as you deserved."

Tauriel caught his disapproving look and put her hand on his arm. "That's really sweet and I appreciate your concern, mellon nín. But first of all, I'm perfectly able to do the beating myself, and second, who says Fiondir doesn't treat me well?"

"I didn't like the way he talked to you yesterday," Legolas could not help saying.

Tauriel let out a deep breath. "He was worried and there were other guards around. Besides, I deserved it – I still want to slap myself in the face for being so careless on duty." Legolas' frown revealed that he was not entirely convinced. "Mellon nín," Tauriel added with a stern expression, "I hate to say this to you, but this is really none of your business. I'm so glad you're finally back, so can we please not argue about an imaginary problem?"

Legolas sensed that she was serious. Although he was slightly hurt by her rejecting his well-meant concern, he decided to let the matter rest for now and keep an eye on the situation from a distance.


	8. Green-eyed Monsters

Five guards stood at the main gate, hoods pulled deep into their faces, gloved hands buried beneath their dark green cloaks. The rain had turned the courtyard into a small lake district and the icy wind did not make things more agreeable. They were waiting for their corporal to join them after taking the captain's orders.

Tauriel looked into the faces of her four comrades – their expressions reflected about the same amount of enthusiasm she was feeling. At least it would be dryer and less windy in the forest because the thick leaf canopy provided some protection from the weather.

Finally they saw Fiondir approach them. The water was already pouring down his face and he did not even bother avoiding the puddles as he crossed the courtyard because it was pointless anyway. "Eastern river bend, below the road junction," he indicated the rough direction they had been sent to. "Perfect, more water," a guard named Sidhril grumbled next to Tauriel.

As the unit advanced into the forest, Fiondir detailed the captain's orders to his soldiers. "The spider attacks reported in that area have increased during the last two weeks. We are supposed to watch out for any signs of a new nest, and if we find one, destroy it."

Tauriel frowned. Yet another new spider nest? The Forest Guard had eliminated one not three weeks ago. Maybe it was only her impression, but she thought the beasts were growing bolder every time the Guard drove them back. There had not been any settlements near the old fortress of Dol Guldur for decades and nobody went near it on purpose, but everyone knew that was where the spiders came from – and the bats and the poisonous black butterflies, for what it was worth.

Tauriel took off her hood. The rain had not stopped, but thanks to the trees it did not reach the ground anymore. So much the better, she thought. The unit was going to spend the next three days and two nights in the forest and Tauriel knew from experience that the weather was directly proportional to her own morale as well as her comrades'. After spending countless hours of monotonous patrol and occasional fighting with them, she claimed to know these five people fairly well.

There was of course Fiondir, the corporal with the icy eyes and the fiery temper who made her furious by still treating her like an inexperienced recruit sometimes and who could charm her like a snake and wrap her around his little finger without her even minding.

Then there was Sidhril, very maidenly and far too delicate for the common notion of a female guard, but her blade was as deadly as her tongue was sharp and Tauriel had found a true friend in her.

Lainon did not talk much, and when he did, he usually said sensible things. He was a bastion of calm, a pragmatist and the sort of person who saved the day and then walked away without even waiting to be thanked.

Argal and Bardir, to complete the sextet, were brothers, had a fairly strange sense of humour and functioned together as efficiently as the two arms of one man.

The unit reached their destination around noon and found the other six soldiers, who had done the previous shift, ready to leave. There had been no major incidents during the last days, but the leader of the other unit still advised them to be vigilant, especially because there was a settlement nearby that would need protection in case of emergency.

Fiondir decided not to send everyone off on their own immediately, like he usually did, but to stay together and gain an overview of the terrain first. None of them were too familiar with the area because it had been a long time since they had last been there, and, knowing about the spider infestation, he did not want to take any risk.

They had roamed the forest for about an hour, located the village and decided to split up at the next road junction. Fiondir was just assigning them their respective directions when they heard suspicious noises coming from the shadows beneath the trees. Tauriel drew her bow, as did her companions, and slowly they advanced into the dark, trying not to make a sound. Being highly-trained Elven forest guards, they were fairly good at walking unseen and unheard, and it did not take them long to find the source of the noise.

There was something, or someone, moving on an old path nearby that had been abandoned for years and was almost overgrown by all sorts of vegetation. The guards could not see the intruders through the leaves, but they could hear their footsteps and the characteristic sound of bowstrings being bent and blades being unsheathed. Tauriel's heart started to beat faster. The next Guard unit was far away and the villagers did not venture that deeply into the forest, so the logical conclusion at hand was either Orcs or Lakemen.

Tauriel looked at Fiondir, whose eyes were focussed in the direction of the path. He turned to his comrades and signalled them to prepare to attack. Tauriel tightened her grip around her bow. She could hear footsteps approaching. The branches of the juniper trees separating their hiding place from the old path were rustling.

The next moment things started to happen very quickly: A hooded figure burst out of the bushes with drawn blades right next to Lainon. He ducked away and Fiondir fired an arrow at the attacker, which missed his head only by an inch because Sidhril was just about to knock him down with her bow handle. Before Tauriel could take a closer look at him, more people broke through the juniper trees. Only in that instant she realised that they were actually Woodland guards!

Before anyone else shot an arrow or dealt a stroke, both Tauriel's unit and their misjudged comrades froze and looked at each other in confusion. The one in the hood, who had nearly been shot by Fiondir, now rose from the ground and shouted, "Everyone calm down, for Eru's sake!"

Tauriel did not believe her eyes. "Legolas? What the…" she blurted, her stomach turning at the realisation that her friend had just escaped death by a mere inch. But she stopped in the middle of the sentence when she saw the utter shock on Fiondir's face. He lowered his bow, his hands trembling, and all colour vanished from his cheeks.

After a moment of paralysis, he shouted at Legolas, "What in Manwe's name is wrong with you to creep through the forest like this? I could have killed you!" He did not even try to suppress his agitation and Tauriel knew that at this stage it would have been in vain. Legolas raised an eyebrow and tried to look as collected as possible, but it was obvious to Tauriel that he too was struggling to maintain his countenance.

"Indeed you could," he said in an icy tone, "It may be a good idea to look before you shoot, Corporal."

Tauriel instinctively took a step towards Fiondir. He was fuming with rage and she could not tell if it was because he had almost shot the prince or because he had missed. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, then he addressed Legolas again, his voice still trembling. "May I ask what you are doing here… Your Highness?" The title came a little too late to be taken as a serious sign of deference.

Legolas ignored the implied insult. "We are searching this area for a spider nest. Frankly, we thought that we had found it when we heard you, so far away from the posts where you are supposed to be," he gave back coldly and sheathed his daggers.

"Eliminating the spiders is the task of the Forest Guard," Fiondir stated. "I assure you that we can handle the situation."

Legolas' expression was both annoyance and sarcasm. "This unit has been put together by the captain especially for the purpose of destroying that nest. Now, if you please, I would like to finish my mission before nightfall – preferably without being assaulted again."

With that he turned around and signalled his soldiers to retreat. Before vanishing between the juniper trees, he threw a look back at Tauriel. She caught it and rolled her eyes – she was so tired of Legolas and Fiondir quarrelling that she did not even take it seriously anymore.

When the other soldiers were gone, Fiondir made an effort to regain his composure. "Back to the road junction," he commanded and started walking. Tauriel sighed and exchanged a look with Sidhril, who only shook her head in silent disbelief.

At the junction, the guards separated and headed in their respective directions. Right before Tauriel left the path Fiondir came after her and caught her arm.

"What was I supposed to do, mmh?" he asked her with a cold half-smile that was all disapproval.

Tauriel shrugged, bewildered. "I didn't even say anything…"

"Exactly, and that's a bad sign with you," he insisted. "Tell me, Tauriel, why is it he risks both his life and my position by jumping in front of my bow, then graciously advises me to 'look before I shoot', although I've already been hunting spiders in this darned forest before he was even born, and still you reproach me for overreacting? Because that's what you do, I can tell from that little frown you're trying to hide."

She let out a deep breath. "I know Legolas annoys you, but can't we just say it was an unhappy coincidence with a harmless ending? If you're so much more mature than him, why don't you prove it by ignoring him?"

"A hard task to accomplish when I don't even know what I've done to him in the first place," Fiondir stated harshly before his expression softened. "Well, except snatching you from under his nose. But that's hardly a crime he can blame me for. I think his behaviour is rather pathetic and unprofessional."

Tauriel could not deny the truth in Fiondir's last point, but on the other hand she thought that both of them were acting ridiculously. "For the hundredth time: He feels protective of me, that's all. First impressions are strong and if you don't like that, you shouldn't have put me down in front of my best friend the first time you met him. Besides, why are you pretending to be jealous? We've established that we're not that kind of couple." She hated it when he became too possessive despite the fact that they had defined the casual character of their relationship in mutual agreement long ago.

Fiondir smiled ironically. "True, but the kind of couple we are is still worth defending, or isn't it, my beautiful little shrew?" His fingertip traced a line from her cheek down to her neck. Tauriel cursed herself for it but both his flattery and his teasing worked on her every single time, although she knew exactly that her indulgence only massaged his ego.

"Fine," she hissed, annoyed but unable to suppress a smirk. "Is that all you wanted to say?" She threw a look in direction of her post in the forest.

"Almost," he answered, took her face in both hands and covered her mouth with a kiss. A familiar shiver ran down her spine. 'Why, by the Valar, do I see right through this and still fall for it?' she asked herself.

"Be careful," he said when he released her.

She nodded. "You too." With that she started her way into the dark coppice.

The day was passing without any sight of spiders or other unwelcome encounters. For about two hours Tauriel had been walking slowly back and forth between two distinctive trees she had chosen as her landmarks. It took her around ten minutes to get from one to the other and on the way she passed several spots that provided a good view of the path she was supposed to secure. Two villagers had walked past her without being aware of her presence; she took it as a compliment on her subtlety.

The first time she heard the call of a grey owl, she thought it was an actual bird. The second time, she started to wonder but still hesitated. When she heard it for the third time, she realised that it was indeed an emergency call from one of her comrades, probably Sidhril, who was positioned closest to her. Tauriel drew her daggers and worked her way through the coppice as fast as she could.

The first thing she saw was a huge black body coming down from a tree and landing right in front of her on the leaf-covered ground. The spider clicked its fangs and eyed her hungrily, but she was quick enough to thrust her dagger into its mouth before it could attack her. The beast collapsed, shrieking, and unblocked the sight on what was happening: There were dozens of spiders all around, on the ground, in the trees, basically everywhere. Tauriel could see Sidhril aiming at them and bringing them down one by one, but there were far too many for her to keep up.

Tauriel's first arrow impaled a spider that was right behind Sidhril, the second one pierced the eye of another that was just about to grab her by the leg.

"Thank goodness!" Sidhril shouted, "I was wondering if anyone would come!"

"Sorry," Tauriel gave back and sliced through a spider's foremost legs, causing it to tumble and giving her the chance to stab it.

She looked around; more and more beasts kept emerging from the shadows. Sidhril had drawn her sword and started slicing and stabbing about because they had come too close for her to shoot them. Tauriel was facing three spiders at once now and could hardly deny that it was pure luck that led her dagger to the right spots before one of them could bite her. Where, in Eru's name, were the other guards? Had they not heard the call or were they kept away by more spiders?

"Help!" Sidhril's scream came in the most inconvenient moment. Tauriel was holding on to the underside of a spider, where the fangs could not reach her, and sliced through what she assumed was its throat. Its legs gave way a little more abruptly than she had anticipated and its massive body buried her.

"Sidhril!" she shouted, but she could not possibly help her friend, who had been circled by four or five spiders, one of which was dangerously close to her. Tauriel struggled and pushed, but she could not free herself from the carcass.

The cry of pain she heard a moment later could not possibly have come out of a spider's mouth. Tauriel's heart skipped a beat when she saw Sidhril on the ground, her leg bleeding, and two spiders above her, ready to bite again.

Tauriel felt like the weight of the cadaver was going to crush her ribs. She could not determine if it was the lack of air, the creature's foul smell or the fear for Sidhril's life that made her nauseous. As if that was not enough, she heard another spider's fangs click very close to her right ear.

Her brain quit service and a sheer survival instinct took over. By applying all the force her leg muscles could provide, she managed to lift the carcass high enough to free her arms and reach for one of her daggers to thrust it in the direction where the noise had come from. A shriek and a thud on the ground told her that she had succeeded. After another effort, she could finally free herself.

She took up her bow, her vision still blurry from the lack of oxygen, and aimed at Sidhril's attackers, but before she could shoot, she saw the first spider rear up and collapse, an arrow in its eye, followed by the second one only a moment later. Sidhril had managed to drag herself away with a grimace of pain.

The first person she saw emerging between the trees was Legolas – no wonder, she thought, who else could aim like that under such difficult circumstances? He was followed by the four other members of his spider-hunting unit, who started systematically eliminating the rest of the beasts while Legolas knelt down beside Sidhril. Tauriel joined the guards in shooting the remaining spiders and soon there were no more alive ones left.

She rushed over to her injured friend. Sidhril's face was pale and her calf was bleeding badly, but she had not been paralysed by the spider poison so far. "Are you all right?" she asked Tauriel who could not help but let out a laugh of both relief and worry.

"Better than you, apparently. I'm sorry I wasn't fast enough."

"Shut up! I thought that thing had crushed you," Sidhril said and managed a weak smile.

Tauriel exchanged a look with Legolas. His uncomfortable expression reminded her of their encounter earlier that day and her dismissive reaction. "Mellon nin..," she started, but he interrupted her, "This wound needs bandaging. Can you do that?" Tauriel glanced at him and his face left no doubt that he was in no mood to talk to her. As soon as she nodded, he rose and walked over to his soldiers. She felt a lump in her throat, but there were more urgent issues to worry about now.

As far as Tauriel could see, the spider bite was not too deep and the bleeding could be stopped. She took out the emergency medical supply every guard had to carry and wrapped a bandage firmly around Sidhril's calf. "Can you still move your foot?" she asked her friend, who affirmed by proving it. "Then it was obviously not a poisonous spider that bit you," Tauriel stated, "It's only the females, you know."

Sidhril bit back a groan of pain. "I'm not even going to ask how you know that."

"My brother studies them for medical reasons," Tauriel told her anyway, just to say something, because she saw Legolas look in their direction and she preferred to pretend ignorance.

Her effort was in vain. He came back, still not paying any attention to Tauriel, and helped Sidhril get up. "Can you walk like this?" he asked, offering her his arm for support.

"What choice do I have?" she gave back, trying to find her balance.

"We're taking you home with us," he declared. "It is the least we can do, after driving the spiders out of their nest."

"So it's you we have to thank for this, Your Highness?" Sidhril grumbled, throwing him a glare that could have pierced his eyes out – if it had only been more serious. Tauriel frowned, but she refrained from any comment.

"It's Legolas," the prince replied. "After nearly getting you killed, I can hardly expect you to address me so formally."

There it was, that cheeky half-grin that had got Tauriel in trouble so many times as a child. 'Unbelievable!' she thought, trying to look as indifferent as she could.

Legolas continued, "At least now we're even. That knock with your bow handle, remember?"

"Oh please, after all it saved you from getting shot!" Sidhril protested and rolled her eyes. So did Tauriel, but for different reasons.

A moment later Lainon, Argal, Bardir and Fiondir burst out of the coppice. All four of them looked like they had been through a substantial fight as well. They did not need to ask any questions to figure out what had happened.

Fiondir came rushing towards Sidhril and Tauriel. She noticed that he was limping, but it did not seem too dramatic. "Have you been bitten?" he asked Sidhril, who nodded but assured him that there was no reason to be alarmed.

"Apparently it wasn't a poisonous one, or else I wouldn't be able to move one finger by now."

Fiondir's posture relaxed, only to tighten again when Legolas addressed him. "Corporal, we are going to take this soldier back to the palace. One of us will stay with your unit in exchange." Fiondir gave him a short nod but said nothing more to him.

"What about you?" he asked Tauriel.

"I'm fine," she quickly replied.

To her surprise, now that Fiondir was present, Legolas seemed willing to acknowledge her existence again. "She would probably be dead, just like her comrade, if we had not been lucky enough to hear them call for aid," he snarled. "I should say your emergency communication system needs improving." Tauriel blinked in utter disbelief.

Fiondir took his time to reply. Tauriel could see his jaw clench, but he spoke very calmly. "Do not tell me how to command my unit. Until I have seen you accomplish anything more impressive than setting a swarm of bloodthirsty spiders on my soldiers, I do not see the point in taking your advice – Your Highness." This time his pronunciation left no doubt that the title was meant as an insult.

"Corporal, you might want to reconsider your tone. Unlike Tauriel, I am not willing to put up with your insolence." Legolas' voice was as sharp as a newly forged blade, but Fiondir did not bat an eye.

"Why do you think I care about your good opinion? And as for Tauriel, I am sure she can decide for herself what she is willing to put up with."

"Indeed I can!" Tauriel interjected. Enough was enough! If the two of them chose to behave like stubborn elflings, that was their own problem, but as soon as they dragged her into it – after deliberately ignoring her not five minutes before, in Legolas' case – she needed to draw the battle lines. "Cut it out, both of you! If you want to slice each other's throats, fine, but please have regards for everyone else and do it in private!" With that she turned on her heels and walked away.

"What are you looking at?" she snapped at Legolas' soldiers, who had been watching the scene with blatant curiosity. She was so done with this! Without another word she set off to return to her watch post.

"Just say it, Nimiel, I can handle it!" Tauriel leaned against the doorframe of the waiting room at the Houses of Healing and looked into her foster mother's slightly tense face.

"Say what?" Nimiel asked innocently, but Tauriel knew she had got the hint.

She had come to the healing quarters to inquire after Sidhril directly after the unit had returned from their three day patrol. There had been no more critical incidents, except Fiondir's apparent desire to massacre everyone who tried to address him with his bare hands during the first few hours after his confrontation with Legolas. In the meantime he had calmed down, but Tauriel was still glad not to be stuck in the forest with him for the next two days.

She threw a suggestive glance with an arched eyebrow at Nimiel. "I'm waiting. Come on, you'll choke on it…"

"Tauriel, please don't push it," the healer replied with a stern expression. "I do not think this is a joke at all. It could just as easily have been you instead of Sidhril. There, I said it." She crossed her arms defensively.

"It could have been any of us," Tauriel tried to appease her. "It's part of our work. We do this so that everyone else can be safe. Just as you sew together disgusting wounds and heal gross diseases."

Nimiel sighed deeply and put her hand on her foster daughter's arm. "The only difference is that you do not pray to the Valar to bring me back home alive every time you see me leave for work. I know I should be proud of you – and I am, believe me – but I cannot bear the thought of losing another loved one to those beasts."

Tauriel did not know what to answer to that. Nimiel's trauma of watching her husband die of blood poisoning after a spider bite had always made Tauriel's career choice a serious issue between the two of them.

They stood silently for a moment, but then Nimiel regained her composure, gave Tauriel a forced but benevolent smile and hugged her. "I'm glad you're back for now, my dear. Do you want to see your friend?" Tauriel nodded and Nimiel signalled her to follow her. "She has recovered very well and by tomorrow she will be released," the healer explained on their way along the corridor. "I'm glad to say that the pain at least did not damp her spirits. She had delightful company though…" Nimiel suddenly paused, biting her lip and looking a little awkward.

"What's wrong? What company was so delightful?" Tauriel asked, confused at her mother's behaviour. Nimiel stopped and was obviously looking for a way to phrase the subject.

"You see, after Legolas brought her in the day before yesterday, he seemed very concerned for her well-being. He visited her yesterday and this morning and stayed quite a while both times. They seemed to be very much… at ease in each other's company."

Tauriel remembered what had happened in the forest and could only just stop her face from producing a sarcastic look, but she did not understand Nimiel's point in getting so worked up about it. "So?" she simply asked.

"So, I think this might be more than a bad consciousness. I can, of course, be mistaken, but I wanted to warn you nevertheless." Nimiel's face reflected her distress but Tauriel still could not figure out what she was talking about.

"You're saying that Legolas might be interested in Sidhril?" she assured herself. "Why would you 'warn' me about that?"

If Nimiel had not always been drilled to be a paragon of poise, she would have bitten her fingernails. "Tauriel, my darling, I did not want the news to hit you unexpectedly in his or her presence. I was concerned it might unsettle you."

Now Tauriel came to realise what Nimiel was trying to tell her. She could not for the world figure out a better reaction than slamming her head softly against the nearest wall. "Nimiel, listen: Legolas can do whatever he wants with whoever he wants for all I care. How do you even get these ideas?"

Her mother looked rather helpless. "We, by watching the two of you together, I assumed…"

"No! Just… no!" Tauriel could not think of a more elaborate answer.

In the name of all the Valar, had her mother gone insane? Of course the answer was no. No, plain and simple. She would be happy for Legolas if Nimiel's impression was indeed true – well, at least as soon as he treated her nicely again. So, obviously: No.

Entering Sidhril's room, Tauriel was greeted by the pleasant sight of her friend sitting at the edge of her bed with a book on her lap, not looking sick at all anymore. "Meldis nin, how nice of you to come!" she exclaimed when she saw her. The relief of seeing Sidhril so well recovered melted the strange feeling Nimiel's words had left.

Tauriel sat down on a wooden chair next to the bed and obliged Sidhril by telling her about the two days of patrol she had missed. "There really wasn't anything worth mentioning after you left and I'm not sure if I myself wouldn't have preferred a spider bite to the combination of rain, boredom and Fiondir's bad temper," she summarised.

Sidhril started grinning. "You know what I've always wanted to tell you, Tauriel? Life as a guard has become a lot more interesting since you joined our unit."

Tauriel could not follow. "Uhm, why exactly?"

"Because two years ago, all we had was an exhaustingly dutiful corporal and a daily routine as predictable as tomorrow's sunrise. Now there is so much drama every time Fiondir and the prince meet. Quite frankly, I think it's better than any novel." She giggled while Tauriel looked at her in complete bewilderment.

"I'm glad there's at least one person who seems to enjoy it," she muttered.

Then another thought came to her mind and she heard it leave her lips before she could stop herself. "Speaking of the prince… Have you seen anything of him these last two days?" At least she managed to make it sound fairly casual.

Sidhril nodded. "Well, yes, he came to enquire after me – briefly," she replied, a nearly invisible blush appearing on her cheeks. "He brought me this book. It's about the War of the Last Alliance – pretty gory, but I told him I needed to read something exciting to take my mind off the pain. Very considerate of him, isn't it?"

"Yes, sure, I guess," Tauriel gave back. "You'd better watch out or he'll recite the whole bloody poem about Sauron's defeat to you." She rolled her eyes, but Sidhril did not seem to think it an odd notion at all.

"Actually he invited me to look at some of the old weapons that were in that battle. Apparently the king still keeps them somewhere. Legolas wants to show them to me tomorrow when I get out of here."

Tauriel nodded and forced her face to smile. She suddenly felt an urge to break something, but she could not for the life of her figure out where it came from. She blamed it on her exhaustion after the long patrol; it certainly had nothing to do with Legolas or Sidhril or any rusty old swords. Of course not. Just… no!


	9. Red Grapes

The arrow made a buzzing noise when it left Tauriel's bow and gave a soft knock when it pierced the centre of the last wooden target. Ten out of ten – that should be enough practice for the day. She shouldered the bow and crossed the training yard to collect her arrows. There were two other soldiers in the cave, who were training with their swords between the giant stalagmites. Tauriel glanced over to them and noticed that they in turn were watching her discreetly. When they caught her look, one of them gave her an appreciative nod before turning back to his comrade.

Tauriel hurried to pluck out her arrows and leave the training yard. She did not like being judged by the other members of her new unit, not even when she knew she was doing well. All of them were excellent soldiers and although Tauriel had already gained their acceptance by proving her skill, she still felt inadequate in such illustrious company.

Her transfer to the Special Operations Unit three weeks ago had hit her by surprise. She would never have expected it, having been with the Guard for no more than seven years. But the captain had been determined to take her out of her Forest Guard unit and give her a place among the twenty soldiers who completed all sorts of tasks outside the regular Guard duties, including sensitive missions and special orders by the king.

So far Tauriel had not done anything spectacular except guarding the throne room during negotiations – after a seemingly endless lecture on discretion given by the captain – and eliminating a pack of Goblins near the western border together with her comrades. Most of her tasks did not differ too much from the ones she was used to; parts of her unit were often sent to the forest to look for spider nests or to escort officials to the settlements for various purposes. She hoped that she would someday get the opportunity to travel beyond the borders of the realm, as most of her new comrades had already done during their many years of service.

After her self-scheduled training session, which was expected of her as well as of the rest of her unit on a daily basis, Tauriel could not think of any more excuses to postpone her afternoon off duty. Having known nothing but three day shifts so far, she was not used to such short intervals of duty and almost felt guilty for finding nothing work-related to do. She had already sharpened her blades, restringed her bow and mended her uniform half a dozen times within the last three weeks and she spent about twice as much time in the training yard as her comrades. The Special Operations Unit paid for their generous working hours with the fact that they were constantly on standby and ready to take the captain's orders at all times. Besides, no small part of their missions were very risky endeavours, so the idle hours were perfectly justified. But still, it was not easy for Tauriel to adapt to that radical change.

She was, of course, excited about the new challenges, but sometimes she caught herself thinking wistfully about the familiar routine of forest patrol with her former unit. She missed her old friends, Sidhril most of all, with whom she could hardly spend time anymore due to their different working schedules.

There was one advantage, however: Not being in the patrol unit anymore meant not seeing a lot of Fiondir either. Tauriel could not deny that she was a little relieved about this elegant way of getting rid of him. During the last few months, they had ended up getting on each other's nerves more than anything else. When they ran into each other by chance now, they exchanged a passing word or two, but there were no more interactions of any other kind, and Tauriel had to admit that her life had become calmer since then.

She wondered what to do with the afternoon. All the people she could have possibly enjoyed spending time with were busy – Sidhril was on patrol, Nimiel and Amril were probably applying ointments on gross rashes or fixing dislocated shoulders, Legolas was on a diplomatic journey to Dale – so Tauriel decided to take a walk.

She loved the forest in spring. The blossoms and the fresh leaves made her feel cheerful every time she looked at them, although there were not many to be seen amongst the strange plants of suspicious colour and smell that grew rampant everywhere. There was a particular place she liked to visit during this time of the year: A lonely cherry tree between beeches, maple trees and oaks, which stood modestly at the edge of the Forest River. For Tauriel it was a place of happy childhood memories and whenever she was looking for a moment of peace and quiet, she came to sit under her cherry tree.

So she did now, leaning the back of her head against the rough tree bark, listening to the birds and the sound of the river and watching white cherry petals fall into the water to be carried away. It was a meditative contemplation and Tauriel closed her eyes. Although she did not intend to, the hypnotising gurgle of the river soon made her doze off.

When she felt a light touch on her shoulder, she immediately awoke and before her mind could ponder the appropriate reaction her hands had already drawn her daggers.

"Relax, for Eru's sake!" The familiar mocking voice chased away her sleepiness and made a warm feeling spread in her chest. She turned around and looked into Legolas' smiling but slightly irritated face. He was wearing his travelling attire and looked rather exhausted.

"What are you doing here?" Tauriel asked him in astonishment while sheathing her daggers. "Weren't you supposed to return next week?"

His alarmed expression faded. "The negotiations with the Master of Dale went better than expected, so it took me less time than I had estimated. I arrived at the palace about two hours ago and thought, as long as my father is busy, I could take a moment to breathe before reporting to him. I didn't expect to find you here."

He sat down beside her, throwing a look at her daggers. "You really scared me with those! Could it be that your promotion has made you a tiny little bit paranoid?"

Tauriel ignored the teasing and replied quickly, "It's not a promotion, it's a transfer." She saw a hint of a smirk appear in the corner of his mouth.

"Of course, I forgot. Congratulations on surviving the first three weeks though! How does it feel to be an elite soldier?"

"We're not elite, it's just another unit." She had been through this conversation with so many people during the last few weeks that the words already came automatically.

Legolas let out a deep breath as if he wanted to say, 'Seriously, who are you trying to fool here?' Instead he answered, "That's the official definition and that's what you're taught to say – but let's be honest: Everyone, including yourselves, knows that the Special Operations Unit is the captain's gathering place for the best of the best."

His smile left no doubt of his satisfaction to see her blush. "Well, there are some really good people…" she admitted.

"And you're one of them," he stated confidently.

Tauriel bit her lip. "I don't know, I still feel like I don't really belong there. Most of them have been with the Guard longer than I've been alive."

Legolas' laugh confused her. "Meldis nín, the captain undoubtedly had his reasons to prom-… to transfer you. And I really can't say I was surprised. Now will you please stop blushing like this? It's terribly unbecoming of an elite soldier!" Tauriel nudged him with her elbow and rolled her eyes, grinning.

"So, how was Dale?" she asked. "Is it true that the paving there is made of gold?" She had read stories about that wondrous place in the East, but she was not sure which part of them belonged to the imagination of the authors.

"Not quite," Legolas gave back and smiled, "although it is a beautiful town with magnificent buildings and an amazing cultural life. The gold, however, comes from Erebor, where I was not allowed to enter. You can't talk to those bloody dwarves…" A frown appeared on his face, but he pushed the unpleasant thought away and continued, "Dale certainly is a sight to see. There are so many different people from all parts of the world. You can literally walk across the marketplace and hear a different language at every few steps."

Tauriel's eyes widened. "Really? I should so much like to see it."

"I'm sure you will, someday. Maybe I can convince the captain to make you part of my escort the next time I go there. In the meantime…" he said and reached into one of the numerous pockets of his overcoat, "I almost forgot I brought something back for you."

He produced a little pouch made of dark blue velvet and handed it to her. Tauriel opened it and a necklace with a silver pendant fell into her hand. It was drop-shaped and held a white crystal cut in the form of a star. She did not know what to say to such a precious gift.

"Oh, my goodness! I… uhm… Thank you so much. You really shouldn't have…"

"Well, too late, I already did," Legolas interrupted her with a grin. "The silversmiths of Dale are renowned all over Arda. I thought you might like it."

Tauriel did like it, but she was a little overwhelmed by the unexpected gesture. Besides, she never wore any jewellery at all and it was the first time in her life that she had owned something as delicate and elegant as this. "Absolutely," she managed to say, "I love it. Though I think it's far too beautiful for me."

Legolas looked at her with a strange expression and mumbled something that sounded like "I wouldn't say so…" Before Tauriel could think about it, he cleared his throat and continued in his normal voice, "It reminded me of you because of all the times I caught you gazing at the stars during night watch." Tauriel smiled and started blushing all over again.

"So you're saying that now I won't get distracted from duty by looking up to the sky anymore because I have my own star to carry around? How thoughtful, mellon nín."

She leaned over to give him a hug, but he interrupted her by saying quickly, "Sure, all in order to improve your performance." He grinned but looked a little uncomfortable and very eager to redirect the conversation.

"Though you probably don't do a lot of nighttime patrol anymore, do you? By the way, do you miss your old unit?"

Tauriel blinked a few times, trying to push away her irritation and follow his train of thought. "Well, sometimes… I guess. I do miss Sidhril."

She regretted saying her friend's name the moment it left her lips. Legolas' strange behaviour had made her forget that Sidhril was still a rather sensitive topic with him, and vice versa. He nodded slowly, frowning. "Sidhril, yes, uhm… How is she?"

"She's fine," Tauriel stated as indifferently as she could, "still as cheerful and sharp-tongued as always."

Legolas forced a polite smile. "I'm glad to hear it."

After quite a while of silence, Tauriel made an attempt that followed in a row of dozens of similar ones before. "Are you ever going to tell me what happened that day you took her to see those ancient swords?"

She could see his jaw clench awkwardly. "She didn't tell you yet?"

"Not a word", Tauriel affirmed.

"Well, then she deserves my highest esteem and gratitude," Legolas concluded, obviously unwilling to discuss the subject any further. "It's getting late, shall we go back?" He rose and held out a hand to help Tauriel up, which she deliberately ignored, getting up on her own.

"Fine, let's go!"

* * *

><p>The Hall of Crystal was illuminated by hundreds of candles and as crowded as it could possibly be. Tauriel stood on her post in the corner next to the large double wing door and let her eyes slowly wander from one side to the other. It was not her first time securing a festivity, but she had never been positioned inside the palace before. The larger part of the feast was going on in the courtyard, whereas the Hall of Crystal was reserved for the king's closer circle, or at least those who considered themselves important enough to belong to it.<p>

Tauriel's back started to hurt, but she was not supposed to move too much or to show any facial expression apart from vigilant indifference. About an hour ago Legolas had taken an infuriating pleasure in trying to make her laugh, but she had ignored it heroically, knowing that five of her comrades were watching her from their own posts.

Nimiel had hardly believed her eyes when she had seen her foster daughter in parade armour, holding an impressive shiny spear in her hand and looking all serious and dangerous. Tauriel took a surprising satisfaction from it that helped her suppress the urge to stretch her back and move her legs.

She started to observe the king. The whole evening he had looked rather beside himself. Usually he was all politeness and grace during these festivities, but tonight something seemed to trouble him. He did not speak to anyone if he could possibly avoid it and spent most of the time sitting at his table, drinking a lot of wine and obviously trying to control his facial expression that repeatedly turned into a grimace of pain whenever he stopped concentrating on it.

Legolas had noticed it as well. Tauriel saw him walk up to his father and place a hand on his arm, which made the king wince and look at his son in bewilderment, as if he had never seen him before. "Ada, what is it?" she heard Legolas ask.

"Nothing, I am… Do not trouble yourself, ion nín." He tried to straighten his posture, but he was trembling all over and his voice was frail.

"You are not well," Legolas insisted, but the king interrupted him harshly, "It is nothing! Now will you please leave me!" The prince hesitated, but then he obeyed and took a few steps away, still assessing his father anxiously.

Before she could even wonder, Tauriel saw Nimiel emerge from the crowd and whisper a few reassuring words to Legolas before she addressed the king in a gentle but firm voice, "Come with me, my lord. Please." She slid a hand under his arm and led him quickly to the exit without him offering much resistance.

When they passed Tauriel, she saw that the king's hands were trembling terribly and his face was covered in sweat. Nimiel tried to maintain her composure, but Tauriel could clearly see her alarm. The two of them left the hall as discreetly as possible and Tauriel noticed with relief that only a few people were turning their heads at the strange departure.

A moment later Legolas approached her. She looked at her comrades, who seemed to be occupied otherwise, and took the opportunity to whisper to her friend, "What was that about? What's wrong with him?"

Legolas gulped and answered quietly, "It's the scar on his face. He hasn't been himself all day."

Tauriel could not follow. "What scar? He doesn't have a scar on his face."

Now Legolas looked genuinely surprised. "You mean you've never seen it? That giant burn mark he brought back from the War of the Last Alliance? Where a dragon burnt off half his face and probably most of the skin on his body as well?"

Tauriel arched an eyebrow and assessed the prince critically. She did not voice her thought, but she wondered how much wine he might have drunk. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said instead.

"Yes, true, why would you?" Legolas reasoned. "He sure doesn't like other people to know. I guess he has never been seriously unsettled in your presence. Most of the time he can cover it up, but sometimes, when he completely loses it or is very exhausted, it shows. It's horrible, it scared the living daylights out of me when I first saw it as a child." The memory put a shadow on his face. "They say dragon fire burns forever and its wounds never heal. I really don't know how he bears it."

Tauriel listened to him in astonishment. Indeed she had not known about that.

The piercing glare of the guard standing closest to her interrupted her contemplation. She threw an apologetic look at Legolas and resumed her air of professionalism.

* * *

><p>"Had we not agreed on a two month period between treatments? The last time you were here was three and a half months ago," Nimiel stated with as much patience in her voice as she could muster. She had taken the king to the Houses of Healing, where she had politely ordered the night nurses and the two present healers not to interfere, while leading him to the treatment room.<p>

Now he was lying down, his hands clasping the edges of the treatment table, and she could see how his effort to conceal his condition slowly faded. The left side of his face, that usually looked as flawless as the rest of it, started to reveal its horrible burn marks and a milky white eye.

Nimiel was preparing the ointment she had developed about two thousand five hundred years ago when the miserable remainder of the Woodland Guard had come back from Mordor, without their old king and with the new one half dead. Since then she had mixed it countless times and managed to make his pain at least a little more bearable.

"I was too busy to keep track of the schedule," she heard him say. His voice was more a groan of pain than anything else, but it did not make Nimiel any more compassionate. They had discussed that subject over and over and it made her furious when a patient proved to be so resistant to her advice. She shook the bottle with the pain relieving poppy extract a little too energetically and almost dropped it.

'I should not have drunk that second glass of wine,' she reasoned silently and took special care while preparing the injection needle. 'Actually he does not even deserve pain medication', she thought, but then she was shocked at herself for her cruelty and continued to fill the syringe.

"Ready?" she asked the king while examining the exposed muscles of his face for the best spots to position the injections.

"Whenever you are," it came back from behind gritted teeth. "I have been looking forward to this for three months."

Nimiel placed the first injection in his temple, the second in his cheek muscles and the third in his chin. She could see him bite his tongue and dig his fingernails into his palm in order to not cry out in pain and she remembered that the first few times it had probably hurt her even more than him. When she was done and had put away the needle, she gave him a few minutes to collect himself.

"If you were a soldier, I would slice your throat for this," the king snarled. Nimiel took it as an indication that the poppy extract was starting to work and came back to her patient with the burn ointment.

"I know", she simply replied. "Chin up!" He obeyed without opposition. It was a choreography both of them knew by heart.

While Nimiel carefully applied the sharp-smelling ointment to the lower parts of his face, she made another hopeless attempt to reason with him. "You know that prolonging the intervals will not benefit you. There is no way of getting used to it, as you are well aware."

Her words were rewarded with an unintelligible grumble. "With all due respect, my lord," she continued, "you should not burden yourself with unnecessary pain." When he did not react to that either, she decided to rely on the soothing effect of the poppy extract and added, "It will not prove your strength to anyone."

The king looked up at her, frowning. "What if I need to prove it to myself?" he gave back after a while. Nimiel let out a nearly inaudible sigh of relief – she had been afraid to find him aggravated by her remark.

"There are many other ways, my lord. One may be to accept help when it is needed." She had reached his cheek by now and started putting the ointment on the spots where the dragon fire had left actual holes.

"You are right, as always," he replied. "But tell me, what kind of a king am I if my own flesh defeats my will?"

The king's pride that made him neglect his health was a sore spot with Nimiel. She had been trying to talk some sense into him for millennia, and now, slowly but steadily, she was coming to the point where she was tired of it. "For Eru's sake, Thranduil, save your foolish heroism for the battlefield!" she heard herself hiss, only to realise what she had just said a moment later. She pulled back her hand and bit her lip.

The king looked at her with an arched eyebrow and said nothing for what seemed an eternity. Then, to her great surprise, he started smiling. It looked rather grotesque with half his face consisting of raw flesh and sinews.

"You have not addressed me by my first name in three thousand years." Nimiel wanted to dig a hole in the ground and hide in it.

"I apologise, my lord," she murmured and cursed herself for drinking that second glass of wine.

"When did I say I disapproved?" the king asked. "In fact, I think I should vex you more often." Nimiel glanced at him in astonishment. The poppies seemed to do excellent work, she thought, seeing the blatant smirk on the unharmed side of his face.

"That would be unwise, as long as you are in this awkward position and I am within arm's length of scalpels and needles," she retaliated and started again to apply the ointment.

"Could you please relax your face?" she had to ask after a few minutes. "I never knew this treatment was so amusing. What are you smiling at, if I may inquire?" The question was only half serious and was asked for social reasons rather than medical ones. Nimiel took a mental note not to drink more than one glass of wine ever again.

The king assessed her with an investigative but friendly look. "Nothing in particular. I was only remembering a rainy spring morning in Doriath and a young healer without a rain cloak who reprimanded me for letting my horse trample all the dandelions at the edge of the path."

Nimiel would have dropped the bowl with the ointment if she had not placed it on the treatment table a moment before. She took a while to answer, but then a long-buried memory emerged from the depths of her mind and forced her to say, "Actually, it was primroses and, in my defence, I needed them badly. And I still remember how mortified I was when I returned your cloak full of grass stains." An involuntary smile spread over her face.

'What in Manwë's name am I talking about?' she silently screamed at herself. Suddenly she was not so sure anymore if it was really the wine talking. She shook off the silliness and forced herself to look professional again.

"That was long ago," the king stated quietly. "It almost seems unreal. I hardly know those two people anymore. At least the young man from thence is a stranger to me."

"So is the girl to me," Nimiel could not stop herself from saying.

There was a long silence after that. Nimiel continued to apply the ointment and the king tried his best not to move.

"What happened to them?" he asked after a while, not looking at Nimiel but gazing into the air as if he saw something that only existed in his mind.

She pondered the question for a moment before suggesting pragmatically, "I suppose they simply grew up."

The king let out a deep breath. "An ungracious world that forced them to do so, is it not?"

Nimiel could not help but agree with him, which she desperately tried to blame on the wine and the general strangeness of the situation, while carefully avoiding looking at the king. Forcing her voice to sound confident, she replied, "There is no use in blaming the world for its course, my lord."

"True", he admitted, "so who or what shall we blame then? Maybe a medical career that was too important to be put aside?" His look was challenging and blatantly provocative this time.

Nimiel felt defiance rise in her and, already cursing herself, she blurted, "Or rather a nobleman's pride wounded by the first rejection of his life?" Obviously Thranduil had not expected such an answer, as Nimiel noticed with ever so slight satisfaction.

He stayed silent for a moment, but then he added, as if to conciliate, "Or simply two fathers who disliked each other."

"Whatever it was, we both found our happiness elsewhere," Nimiel pointed out in another desperate try to get out of this conversation – although she was not entirely sure she wanted it to end.

Her attempt seemed to work nevertheless because the king's expression became a little more pragmatic. "Only to lose it again, but still, you are right, we should let the past rest."

Relieved and confused, Nimiel applied the last bit of ointment to his temple. "Very well, we are done, my lord," she stated. "I would like you to stay here for a while, as always, until the ointment takes full effect." Without waiting for an answer, she rushed out of the room.

* * *

><p>Tauriel and Sidhril were sitting on the wooden floor of Tauriel's little chamber in the Guard's quarters, an empty carafe of Dorwinion between them and a very becoming blush on both their faces.<p>

"I don't believe it," Sidhril said and held up her glass. "Have we really emptied the whole carafe? Orome's horn, we're going to be so hung over…" She giggled.

Tauriel gave her a reassuring smile. "So what? As the mortals say: We'll never be this young again. Bottoms up!" With that she raised her glass and drank the last bit of the sweet red wine.

So did Sidhril, not being aware of the fact that she had consumed about three times as much as her friend, who had deliberately got her drunk out of base motives – more precisely to extract information from her. She had taken the prospect of a calm evening of chatting and catching up on the events of the last weeks as an excuse to lure Sidhril into her trap and now there was no way of escaping anymore.

"You know what I almost forgot to tell you?" Tauriel mentioned casually. "I talked to Legolas a few days ago. He asked about you and sends his regards."

Sidhril assessed her friend sceptically through a veil of blurriness. "Uhm, thank you… I guess."

Tauriel judged her chances of success and resolved that the moment of truth was now or never. Like the skilled huntress that she was, she set her sight firmly on the target. "You've never told me what happened between the two of you. I thought you got along so well…"

"We did, he's a really nice fellow," Sidhril blurted and Tauriel could only just suppress the triumphant smile that wanted to spread over her face. The arrow had been shot, now it only needed to hit the mark.

"So, why did you stop seeing each other so abruptly?" she probed.

Sidhril's expression turned stern – it looked ridiculous because all her movements, including those of her facial muscles, were slowed down by the alcohol. "I don't know if I should tell you," she reasoned.

The arrow had obviously gone astray, but the prey was still within reach. "Come on, it has been a long time. Whatever it was, it's all over and done with by now. You can tell me." A good hunter never gave up right after the first missed shot.

Sidhril seemed to ponder her options. It took excruciatingly long and Tauriel cursed her impatience – an inconvenient quality for any hunter, as she was well aware.

Finally Sidhril came to a decision. "Fine, I'll tell you, but if you say anything to him…"

"You'll cut off my fingers one by one with a blunt blade and feed them to the spiders, I know. Don't worry, I'll be as silent as a dwarven grave. So what happened?" She leaned forward in excitement but forced herself to relax.

"Well, we went to the room with the old weapons," Sidhril began, "he told me the stories to go along with all of them and then he tried to kiss me."

Tauriel gulped. "Oh. Uhm, tried? Don't tell me you punched him!"

"Of course not!" She shook her head emphatically, almost losing her balance. "It was him who stopped right in the middle of everything and then he apologised a thousand times. When I asked him what was wrong, he admitted that he liked me a lot and thought I was lovely and charming and everything, but the main reason for his attention to me was him being so upset… about you." Sidhril pointed her finger at her friend.

Tauriel frowned and arched an eyebrow. "Me?"

"Yes, and the way you let Fiondir treat you. He was really troubled. I wanted to be mad at him, but I simply couldn't. The poor soul! He begged me not to tell you because he didn't want to make you uncomfortable by revealing how he felt about you. After being friends for so long, you know… Tauriel?"

Despite her blurry vision and her slowed senses, Sidhril noticed that her friend looked agitated. "What's wrong?" she asked her, trying to get up but failing miserably.

"Excuse me, I… It's the wine, I need some fresh air," was the last thing she heard from Tauriel before she saw her rise and walk out of the room.

'I'll go after her later,' Sidhril thought, leaning back against the wall and drifting off into a pleasant wine-induced dream.


	10. Black Butterflies

"Are you serious?" Tauriel's piercing eyes and her voice, as sharp as a Gondolin-forged blade, literally made her comrade shrink. For a Silvan, Etheldir was a veritable giant, but the concentrated anger of the little elleth-shaped fire-drake in front of him truly seemed to intimidate him.

"I-I'm sorry, I completely forgot about my other appointment when I volunteered for the king's escort," he stuttered, while his face slowly turned crimson. "I know it's last-minute, but is there any chance you could help me out?" His guilty look almost made Tauriel laugh, but she maintained her air of annoyance for a more convincing effect.

"I just returned from the border!" she groaned. "We crept through the coppice in this dreadful heat for two days before we finally got our hands on that Troll!"

"Please, Tauriel," he insisted, "the captain is going to butcher me…"

Tauriel arched an eyebrow. In fact, she had already decided to do him the favour, but torturing her comrade just a little bit longer than necessary felt too good to miss out on that opportunity. She savoured the moment with one last look at his guilty frown before she finally let out a deep breath and hissed, "Fine, I'll take your place!"

His face lightened up with relief. "Thank you so much, I can't tell you how…"

"Yes, I get it, all right?" she interrupted him, grinning and pointing her finger at him. "You owe me one!" With that she turned around and made her way back to the armoury, where she had just come from, to get her bow and quiver.

The mission she had so unexpectedly volunteered for was to accompany the king on a visit to one of the settlements near the northern border. She did not know what business he had to attend there, but it was not necessary for her to know the details.

Half an hour later, Tauriel mounted her horse – more precisely it was just one of the many horses in the palace stables that belonged to the Woodland Guard. Most soldiers, apart from the captain and the four lieutenants, did not have their personal mounts. Tauriel was still not too accustomed to horseback riding because she had only started to do it on a regular basis when she had joined the Special Operations Unit, but, like every Elda, she had a natural way of communicating with all sorts of animals, so she felt quite safe and comfortable on the dapple-grey's broad back.

Her fellow guard was ready to start, and so was Lord Rosdir, the king's secretary, who had brought an impressive arsenal of paper, parchment rolls and quills. The only one they were waiting for was the monarch himself. His horse was already saddled, held by a stable boy and pawing impatiently. 'Thank Eru it's not the elk,' Tauriel thought. She found the king's rather eccentric choice of mount both impractical and ridiculous, but Thranduil's extravagancies were not hers to judge.

Finally she saw the king emerge from the entrance of the royal quarters, buttoning his light travelling coat and gesturing while he was speaking to someone who came out behind him. 'Please don't let him come with us,' Tauriel sent a silent prayer to the Valar. She threw a look at Legolas, who was listening carefully to his father's instructions, then nodded, bid him goodbye with a slight bow and went back inside, before the king walked over to the waiting group, mounted his horse and gave the signal to start.

Urging her horse into an easy trot at the end of the small company, Tauriel sighed with relief. Riding all the way to the border and back with Legolas – in the presence of his father – would have been about as pleasant as running the gauntlet.

Since she had tricked Sidhril into telling her the truth about their failed rendezvous, Tauriel's thoughts about her best and oldest friend were in an unprecedented uproar. At first she had tried not to take Sidhril's account too seriously – after all five years had passed since the incident with the ancient swords – but gradually it had dawned on her that Legolas feeling more for her than friendship was indeed a plausible explanation for lots of things that had happened between them.

Truth be told, it scared her. It scared her more than any spider or Goblin or Warg she had faced in her entire life. Legolas had been her friend, her confidant, her partner in crime for almost as long as she could remember. Seeing their friendship change felt like losing a safe haven that had always been there to give her strength.

Tauriel had not talked to Legolas about the subject because she could not think of any way to bring it up that would not worsen the situation. He obviously thought the same, as he had never made any attempt to actually tell her how he felt, knowing that it would most likely not be well-received. It was probably for the best, Tauriel reasoned, because a rejection would do more harm than the eventual realisation that there were better options for him.

At that, Tauriel frowned. An uncomfortable feeling rose in her. It was the same she had felt when Sidhril had told her about Legolas inviting her to see the old weapons. And when that excruciatingly pretty musician had smiled at him so suggestively all evening during the last winter solstice feast. And whenever the king made one of his obvious attempts to interest his son in an eligible young lady at court. Tauriel tried to push the feeling away, like the last time it had crept into her mind like an unwelcome intruder. In fact, it was this stinging little sensation in a dark, hidden corner of her consciousness that scared her most of all.

She had never been in love, nor did she think it was a good idea. Her relationship with Fiondir, the only time she had ever come anywhere near romance, had begun for curiosity, continued for amusement and ended so undramatically that she was absolutely sure about not having been in love with him. The idea of opening up her soul to someone seemed far stranger to Tauriel than allowing them to touch her body. She did not like the thought of letting someone know that they could hurt her.

Legolas, on the other hand, was serious about these things, or at least that was what she thought. Being the prince, apart from being well-mannered and reasonably attractive, he certainly had enough possibilities for amorous encounters, but he did not seem to be too interested in them. Tauriel even thought him capable of believing in the notion of "the one true love" – something that belonged to the realm of poetry and ancient tales, as far as she was concerned.

Even if she would fall in love one day, as unlikely as it seemed to her, she knew herself well enough to suspect that she might get tired of it sooner or later and eventually leave the battlefield after cruelly massacring an innocent heart. That heart could not, under any circumstances, be Legolas'. She would rather die a slow and agonising death than deliberately hurt him.

Besides, what did he want with her anyway? He was a prince, whereas she was an orphan from a common forest settlement, a soldier with none of the qualities required of a lady. So she tried to convince herself that at some point he would certainly resolve to abandon his inclination to her.

The dapple-grey panted and shook his mane, almost as if he had heard her contemplations and disapproved. The sudden movement woke Tauriel from her thoughts. "Be quiet! What do you know?" she whispered and petted his neck.

* * *

><p>The visit to the border settlement had been short and efficient. The king had his routine because he made this sort of journeys on a regular basis. The number of villages outside the immediate radius of the palace was steadily decreasing due to the growing threat of spiders and other foul creatures, but there were still a lot of them, distributed all over the realm, especially in the northern parts. Thranduil was not too fond of the idea of his people living so far away from the protective walls of the palace, but he did not want to force them to leave their homes. So he had taken to visiting every settlement himself at least once a year – which was quite a busy schedule, given their number – apart from sending his officials and soldiers there whenever the villagers had to be informed about important news or needed any kind of help.<p>

This time he had found nothing to worry about, except the apparent nervousness of the farmers and hunters at the presence of the noble guest, which Thranduil was used to and did not mind, and so the visit was a short one. Still, the secretary had managed to fill several of his pages.

As the small company was riding in single file along the narrow forest path again, Tauriel, still at the end of the group, was the first to notice the black butterflies fluttering above them. The Silvans said that these creatures were heralds of death. Tauriel did not believe in superstition, but she knew that there was some truth to the macabre saying. Those butterflies were not like their harmless, colourful brothers that subsisted on the nectar of flowers – no, those foul creatures from Dol Guldur fed on nothing but blood. Wherever they were, blood was not far.

Some minutes later Tauriel heard rustling in the bushes behind their company. It seemed to follow them, so she advised her fellow soldier to be vigilant.

The attack came unexpectedly nevertheless. Five Orcs broke through the bushes with infernal roaring and drawn blades. The first thing that happened was that the secretary's horse reared up and fled along the path, the poor rider on its back being unable to appease it and clinging desperately to the saddle. In the meantime, more Orcs emerged from the shadows and three of them decided to go after the Lord Rosdir, whose only weapons were his quills and who was about as skilled at fighting as he was at horse riding. Tauriel's comrade exchanged a look with the king, then he kicked his horse into a gallop and followed the unlucky fellow.

Tauriel was too busy slicing and stabbing about to realise that she had ended up alone with the king, being solely responsible for his protection. Luckily he seemed very capable of defending himself, as she noticed from the corner of her eyes. He was wielding his sword with extraordinary precision, every movement was as flawless as it was effective, and soon a pile of dead Orcs accumulated at his horse's feet.

Tauriel herself had just parried an attack intended to throw her off her horse by thrusting one of her daggers into a particularly warty Orc's eyehole – what worked with spiders could not be wrong with Orcs. The creature had managed to cut through her trousers and she could feel blood drenching the fabric, but there was no time to worry about it because the next moment she saw a jagged blade fly towards her face. She quickly bent sideward to avoid it, slicing another Orc's throat in the process. She noticed with relief that no more attackers seemed to emerge from the forest, leaving them to deal with no more than four remaining ones.

The moment she saw the archer on the tree was the moment his arrow was released. "Down!" she shouted, but it was too late for the king to react. Fortunately, due to a baulk of his horse, the arrow missed his chest and only pierced his upper arm, causing him to drop his sword.

Another Orc attempted to attack him with an axe, but he produced a dagger from his saddle bag and threw it, splitting the Orc's forehead in two accurate halves. Tauriel marvelled at the result for a good moment before she heard the king's voice.

"Am I to expect any help from you, soldier?" he snarled while slaying another enemy with a sword – or whatever it was – that he had pulled out of the Orc pile on the ground. Tauriel shook off the astonishment and immediately remembered the archer, who was just aiming at the king for the second time. She drew her bow, but it was too late to bring him down as the arrow was already flying.

Within the split of a second the world around her froze and the familiar coldness spread in her mind. She saw the trajectory of the arrow like a line drawn in the air, shifted her bow ever so slightly and shot. Her arrow hit the one of the Orc about three feet in front of the king. She aimed again and a moment later the archer fell off the tree.

In the meantime, the king eliminated the two remaining Orcs and dropped the suspiciously black blade with a disgusted look on his face before wiping his hand on his trousers.

"My lord," Tauriel said and rode over to him, "your arm…" He gave her a frown and looked down on the wound, grimacing.

Before Tauriel could say anything else, he descended from his horse, picked up his sword, examined the dead Orcs - now covered by greedy butterflies - and remounted. Without so much of another word, he started in direction of the palace, leaving a clueless and guilt-ridden Tauriel to follow him in silence.

* * *

><p>The captain looked at Tauriel with an expression that was even grimmer than usually. She bit her lip and forced herself to keep a straight posture. "Why were you on this mission anyway?" he asked, glaring at her. "Was not Etheldir supposed to go?"<p>

Tauriel nodded slowly. "He asked me to replace him. He had an… accident. Nothing dramatic," she lied, praying to the Valar that the captain would not investigate the matter any further. Etheldir would have to do her a really big favour in order to make up for this. As for her other comrade and the poor secretary, both of them had returned safely, though a lot of the writing equipment had fallen victim to the bloodthirsty – or in this case rather ink-thirsty – Orcs.

"I am sure you are aware of the reputation your negligence will cause your unit," the captain continued.

Tauriel gulped. "Yes, captain."

"You nearly got the king killed," Rochanar deemed it necessary to point out.

"Yes, captain," she repeated, wondering if her face could still get any hotter.

The captain turned around and took a few steps away from her. 'I hope he's not taking a run-up to go for my throat,' she thought.

But instead he turned back to face her and said, "Luckily for you, His Majesty does not seem to mind. In fact, he specifically requested you to be part of his escort on his upcoming journey to Lothlórien."

Tauriel was not sure she had heard him right. She stared at him, trying to detect any signs of sarcasm. But the only thing she could see was a benevolent yet somewhat reluctant smirk spreading over his face.

"I knew I was right to prom-… transfer you," he grumbled. "Now go and get that leg bandaged."

* * *

><p>Lothlórien – Tauriel still could not believe she was really there. She had dreamt of travelling outside the Woodland Realm since the first time she had read wondrous stories about foreign lands as a child. The Golden Wood was even more beautiful than she had imagined. The majestic mallorn trees were healthy and full of life, no foul creatures crept in the shadows and the sunlight actually reached the ground in most places. The Elven city named Caras Galadhon was built entirely on the strong, ancient trees and it had taken Tauriel a while to get used to spending most of the day so far above the ground instead of beneath it.<p>

Within the two weeks that had already passed since their arrival, she had found lots of opportunities to explore the beautiful place and its surroundings. The king did not require her or her comrades' service most of the time, as he was busy speaking to Lord Celeborn, a relative of his, about all sorts of diplomatic matters – which, in fact, tended to turn into rather social conversations as soon as a glass of wine was involved. Thranduil was fond of his kinsman, even though he had never cared too much for Lady Galadriel, which was probably just as much due to her Noldorin descent as to her habit of answering his thoughts before he voiced them. Tauriel had caught a short glance at the rulers of Lothlórien at their arrival and came across them occasionally while roaming the city, but of course she had never spoken to them.

Instead, being billeted in the Guard's quarters, she and her comrades had made the acquaintance of some Galadhrim soldiers, who proved to be pleasant fellows after a day or two of getting used to the guests. Three brothers called Haldir, Rúmil and Orophin had taken Tauriel along on their forest patrol one day and she had been waiting for dangerous creatures to attack them the whole time. But nothing had happened. Nothing at all. At some point she had started pondering the question which one was worse, spiders and Orcs or complete and utter boredom. The company had been pleasant though and the Galadhrim guards had told her lots of stories about Lothlórien while in turn asking her about her life in the Woodland Realm. Tauriel's own comrades preferred to stay among themselves and she could not possibly understand their reasons for deliberately passing on such an amazing opportunity to learn about another culture.

One who shared her enthusiasm was Legolas, who had accompanied his father on the journey. For Tauriel, still being affected by the revelations of a few weeks before, it had been a challenge to spend so much time in such close proximity to him during the journey without making her confusion too obvious. But somehow, since their arrival in the Golden Wood, she felt much more at ease around her old friend again. Maybe it was the magical atmosphere of the forest that made her feel so relaxed, she reasoned, or maybe the mere fact of being far away from their daily routine at home. Whatever it was, Tauriel was happy to be so comfortable around him again and enjoyed every minute they could spend together.

When Legolas' presence was not required by his father or the Lord and Lady, he often wandered off with her to explore all the wonders that were not as new to him as he liked to pretend. A typical conversation typical during their little expeditions could consist of her claiming, "I bet you've seen this pavilion a hundred times!" and him responding, "Yes, but isn't it nice to have someone to share your surprise with?"

One evening Tauriel was sitting on the edge of an ample platform in one of the bigger mallorn trees, letting her legs dangle and listening to the distant song that waved over to her from another tree. She was contemplating the stars through a very conveniently located gap in the leave canopy. There was no one else on the platform because it was one of the talans mainly used for business-related activities. During the day many craftsmen came to work there, but at night it was deserted. Except for Tauriel, who had taken the opportunity to occupy this quiet spot for a moment of solitude.

It was violently interrupted when she heard light footsteps approach. Before she could even turn, she felt hands on her shoulders that gave her a little push – causing her heart to skip a beat – only to pull her back right after she lost her balance.

"What is wrong with you?" she hissed and turned around. She knew it was Legolas; who else would think attempted murder qualified as a prank?

He chuckled. "I'm sorry, I couldn't resist."

"Well, I'm glad you're enjoying yourself," she grumbled, already failing to suppress her grin.

"Shall we go climb some trees?" he asked and held out a hand. It was an inside joke they had created after only a few days in Lothlórien. This time Tauriel accepted the hand offered to help her up.

"Shouldn't you be with your father?" she inquired while walking down the circular stairs that wound around the tree trunk.

Legolas let out a deep breath of pretended desperation. "Don't even ask about my father, meldis nín. He and Lord Celeborn are drinking wine and revelling in the good old times when they could actually count the millennia they've been living for on one hand."

Tauriel gave him a severe look and a light but emphatic pad on his arm. "Don't be so mean! You should be glad that your father is so relaxed and cheerful. I remember how grumpy he was that day I went to the forest with him…"

"He took a bloody arrow to his shoulder!" Legolas interrupted her, not even trying to hold back his laugh, which seemed more than just a bit disrespectful to her. "I want to see you in that situation and still being all serenity and merriment."

They had reached the ground and made their way to the path leading out of the city. After a few turns, the lanterns became scarcer and the echo of the songs was barely heard anymore. In the gloomy light they could hardly see their hands in front of their faces, so both of them gave a little jump when a tall white figure appeared right in front of them.

"Legolas – what a pleasant surprise," the Lady of the Golden Wood greeted the prince.

"My lady," Legolas replied and both of them bowed to her. Tauriel tried to take a closer look at her without appearing too insolent. In the dark of the evening, she had the impression that Lady Galadriel was surrounded by a glimmer of white light. She was taller than most Eldar Tauriel had ever met and her hair did indeed resemble a stream of liquid gold, just as the tales described it.

The lady's eyes came to rest upon Tauriel, who felt as though the friendly but investigative gaze did not just contemplate her outer shape but pierce right into her soul. It was terrifying and soothing at the same time.

"And who is this?" Galadriel asked Legolas, while her eyes kept resting on Tauriel.

The prince explained, "Forgive me my negligence, my lady, and allow me to introduce Tauriel, a soldier with the Woodland Guard and a very dear friend of mine." Tauriel blushed at the thought of having just been formally introduced to a person she had learned about in history class.

The lady gave her a nearly invisible, enigmatic smile. "I see," she replied, looking at Legolas and then back at Tauriel. "Have a pleasant walk then. But do not venture too far." With that she gave them a nod and started walking in direction of the talans.

Tauriel had to shake her head and blink several times to get her mind to think straight again. She looked at Legolas, who seemed slightly off track as well, but apparently he bore it more easily than she did.

He guessed her thought from her face and mumbled, "You get used to it eventually." Tauriel just nodded, trying to get the echo of the lady's words and the image of that puzzling smile out of her head.

They walked in silence for a while, breathing in the sweet scent of the forest, contemplating their own thoughts. After some time – Tauriel did not know how long they had been wandering – they came to the bank of the river. The water was calm and black, reflecting the bright starlight.

"Look," Tauriel whispered and pointed to the opposite bank. Hundreds of tiny green lights were flickering a few feet above the water surface. Tauriel remembered the last time she had seen a swarm of fireflies during their summer dance above a river.

Legolas smiled; she could not see it but infer from his tone of voice. "No spiders this time," was his somewhat obvious but appropriate contribution.

Tauriel did not take her eyes off the fireflies when she felt Legolas' hand reach for hers. Her mind kept arguing against it, but she did not listen to its numerous and undoubtedly sensible objections. Instead she leaned against his shoulder, looked up at him as soon as she felt his hand under her chin and offered no resistance whatsoever when he placed a gentle kiss on her mouth. His lips were soft and warm and the light touch of his skin made her ignore the guilt that was boiling up inside her.

'What am I doing?' she screamed at herself silently while still allowing her lips to part and the kiss to deepen. It felt right and wrong at the same time; in fact, as right as nothing had ever felt before and so wrong that it made her stomach cramp in fear of what might happen as soon as this unreal moment would end.

With an effort of will stronger than she had thought she could manage, she gently pulled away and took a deep breath. Not daring to look into Legolas's face, she whispered, "Let's not be silly. This would never work." She wondered why hearing these words come out of her mouth hurt worse than any spider bite.

Legolas let go of her hand, reluctant but obviously not too surprised. Tauriel threw a last look at the dancing fireflies, then she slowly started walking back the way they had come from.


	11. Pink Elephants

For the Prince of the Woodland Realm the rainy summer's day he would later remember as the day of the broken things could not have begun more adequately: He awoke at the infernal clanking of breaking dishes, followed by loud swearing and an angry "Shhh!" Once again he regretted the circumstance that his bedchamber was situated directly next to the royal quarters' dining room and that the wall separating them seemed to be as thin as a piece of parchment. He had intended to change rooms for years but somehow he had always postponed his plan because most of the time he had no reason to complain. But every now and then a servant proved to be particularly clumsy and reminded him of it.

Legolas groaned and buried his face in the pillow. His head felt like a dwarven mine where hundreds of tiny hammers and pickaxes were at work. He had stayed up late the night before to finish a pile of letters concerning the realm's trade agreements with the cities of Men in the East. He had completely forgotten that the messenger was due to leave the following morning, until his father had made a casual remark about it over dinner. So the prince had spent most of the night in the study, cursing himself for his recent absent-mindedness, in order to make sure the realm's crop and, not to forget, wine supplies would be properly restocked.

Although his head was taking cruel revenge for the insufficient amount of rest, Legolas resolved that he had to get up. There was no excuse for laziness, especially for a royal, because the delicate state of equilibrium that kept the kingdom functioning did not maintain itself. There was a basket full of petition letters waiting to be looked through and sorted by importance before his father would deal with the most urgent and sensible ones, leaving the rest of them to Legolas. They worked together quite efficiently and the prince had grown accustomed to the responsibilities he bore, as limited as they might be. However, he still preferred all sorts of duties related to the realm's defence and had gradually replaced the king as the main administrator of the Guard. The captain trusted his judgement and he had proven to be extraordinarily talented in the strategic as well as the practical part of military operations.

Nonetheless the day ahead of him would most likely be dedicated to more peaceful and monotonous activities. Legolas rose from his bed, acknowledged the pounding pain in his right temple with annoyed resignation and concluded that this day would probably not be any better than the previous ten had been.

While getting ready, he could not stop his mind from wandering back to the place where it ended up whenever he did not keep it occupied: the bank of the river Celebrant during the penultimate evening of their visit in Lothlórien. 'Let's not be silly. This would never work.' The words Tauriel had whispered to his collar bone before walking away and leaving him to his helpless confusion still echoed in his head in an infinite loop. If he was honest, he would have preferred her to yell at him or even slap him for violating her privacy – that way there would have been no doubt about her attitude towards his advance. But this? The way she had reciprocated his kiss for what had felt like a small eternity, the incredibly miserable tone of her voice while speaking those confounded words, and of course the red and swollen eyes she had failed to hide from him when he had finally gone after her – none of this made sense to him.

It was true, Legolas had been in love with Tauriel for a long time. It had started gradually after his return from his long journey. Knowing that all she felt for him was friendship and seeing her with that ineffably obnoxious corporal should have brought him back down to earth. The Valar knew he had struggled hard to take his mind off Tauriel, but unfortunately that was not how love worked. So he had done what he thought a good friend should do: He had watched over her, laughed with her, fought alongside her and been there for her, just like it had always been, still hoping he would eventually grow out of his futile feelings.

But then things had changed. Tauriel had changed. It was nothing big or remarkable, just little moments, looks, gestures and words, but suddenly Legolas had felt that he might not be fighting a completely lost cause. So he had taken his chances that night at the river bank, figuring that even a rejection could not be worse than the gnawing insecurity.

So much for his impeccable judgement! The emotional turmoil he had been going through for the last ten days was about twenty times worse. He had confronted Tauriel, but all she had given him was a desperate yet not good enough attempt to make him believe that she felt nothing but friendship for him. One good thing about Tauriel was the fact that it had always been ridiculously easy to read her face. However, seeing her lie to him had not exactly lessened his confusion. She had apologised for allowing the kiss in the first place and her distress while doing so had been more than sincere. Legolas had no trouble believing that she felt bad for him, which made him feel even worse.

After their return to the Woodland Palace, the awkward silence had changed into an even more awkward habit of forced small talk about meaningless banalities. The tension between them was practically tangible and Legolas admired himself almost as much as Tauriel for showing enough self-control to behave more or less civilly. He knew that he needed to confront her again eventually, but until now he had not found the strength.

Very slowly but unmistakably his confusion was turning into a small volcano of bottled-up anger that would probably not take much longer to erupt. Most of all he was angry with himself for being so anxious and hesitant. His second target were the Valar, or the world, or just the general circumstances that made things so preposterously complicated. And last but not least, although he did not want to, he was starting to get angry – or, to put it bluntly – utterly furious at Tauriel. How dare she pretend that she could get away with kissing him and then walking out on him without so much of an explanation! How dare she talk to him casually about the weather and the latest spider incidents while another subject was standing between them like a giant pink Mûmak in the room!

Legolas did not notice how violently he was treating the strand of hair he was just braiding until he accidentally plucked out a bit of it. The little sting managed to clear his thoughts. He took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down.

* * *

><p>"Good morning, Your Highness," Legolas was greeted by Galion when he entered the study. He nodded in return and acknowledged the presence of another elleth who was dusting the bookshelves with a short look.<p>

The butler poured a cup of peppermint tea and set it on the desk. He knew the prince was not a morning person and usually did not bother taking a proper breakfast, so he had made it a habit to serve him his favourite tea and some fruit without being asked. "Thank you," Legolas replied and sat down, sighing at the sight of all the petition letters.

While Galion left the study, he emptied the basket on the desk, unfolded the first letter and frowned at the scrawly handwriting and the four spelling errors he detected in the first line alone. 'Oh please, tengwar really is a grind', he heard a familiar voice say in his head. A smirk appeared on his face, but as soon as he realised who that infallibly accurate quote belonged to, it vanished immediately. He skimmed the letter, scribbled an annotation on the top margin and tossed it back into the basket, deeming it unworthy of his father's attention.

While going through the next ones, he felt the pounding in his temple getting more and more uncomfortable. Not even the refreshing smell of the peppermint tea could soothe it. He dropped his head into his hand and let out a deep breath.

Suddenly the sound of something heavy bursting on the stone floor made him wince and he felt his fingers clench, breaking the delicate quill he was holding. He looked up and saw that the elleth had just dropped a horse-shaped marble bookend and was hectically collecting the pieces from the floor.

"Mind what you're doing!" he snapped and the girl's face turned crimson as she mumbled, "I'm sorry, Your Highness."

A moment later Legolas regretted his sharp words. "No, it's fine, I did not mean to be so harsh," he said apologetically. "Just clean this up and leave me, will you?" The girl bowed her head, put the pieces of the marble horse into the pockets of her apron and scurried out of the room.

Legolas wondered at himself. Usually it was him who reprimanded his father for taking out his frustration on his subjects. He could not let his private problems affect the way he treated other people, it was unjust and unprofessional. He leaned back in his chair and breathed deeply, then he took another quill from the top drawer and continued his tiresome labour.

* * *

><p>"Ion nín, are you listening to me?" the king asked and threw a sharp look at his son who was standing at the plotting table, holding a tiny green figure that represented a unit of the Forest Guard.<p>

Legolas put it down and replied quickly, "Yes, father, of course I am. I agree with you, the watch at the southern border should be reinforced."

Thranduil raised an eyebrow and assessed him critically from across the study. "We resolved on that ten minutes ago," he pointed out and Legolas bit his lip awkwardly while the king repeated, "I was asking you about your progress with the recruits."

The prince could have sworn that he had not heard his father mention anything of the kind. "Well, they are learning quickly," he improvised, desperately trying to remember what he had actually been doing with the three aspiring soldiers he had recently started to train in sword fighting whenever he found the time.

The king saw right through the diversionary manoeuvre. "Legolas, what is the matter with you?" he asked and took a few steps towards his son. "You seem rather… distracted. You have not been yourself since we returned from Lothlórien."

'Great, if even he has noticed, then I must really be a glorious mess,' Legolas stated to himself. "It is nothing," he tried to reassure Thranduil. "I have not rested well, but I promise you to pull myself together." He straightened his posture as if to prove it.

"That is not what I am asking," the king said softly with far too much fatherly concern in his voice. Legolas appreciated the gesture, but he did not feel inclined to talk to Thranduil about the subject that distressed him. Discussing matters of such intimate nature generally made him uncomfortable, especially since the king made at least one attempt a year to marry him off to what he considered eligible young ladies, and Legolas was running out of polite excuses.

Fortunately Thranduil came up with his own theory of why his son was acting so strangely: "Did Lady Galadriel meddle with your mind?" he asked, trying to find evidence for his suspicion in Legolas' face. "She tends to do that. It is very impolite, if you ask my opinion, but she has been that way since the Second Age. Not a very endearing trait, I assure you." Thranduil shook his head in disapproval. "So, if she made you uneasy, you can tell me. I specifically asked her to stay out of your head…"

Legolas made an effort not to roll his eyes. "Adar, Lady Galadriel did not do anything to me. As much as you may dislike her, I am still on rather good terms with her."

The king nodded shortly. "I see. So much the better." He cleared his throat and resumed his investigation. "I worry about you, ion nín."

The king's hand on his shoulder made Legolas slightly nervous. "Really, there is no need," he tried once more. "I am perfectly able to sort out the matter on my own."

Thranduil's face now reflected equal parts of interest and triumph. "So there is a matter." It was not a question.

Legolas bit his tongue in regret. He hated Thranduil's occasional moods of solicitude. They did not fit him, at least not since Legolas had outgrown toy animals and children's books. He loved his father dearly but he preferred him to stay at a healthy distance from his innermost feelings. Therefore the next thing Thranduil said almost made Legolas choke on his own breath.

"I have not seen you with your friend lately."

"Which one are you referring to?" the prince asked innocently, secretly trying not to implode.

Thranduil leaned against the plotting table and replied casually, "Tauriel. And I have to admit I am almost relieved."

"What?" For a moment Legolas completely forgot who he was speaking to. "I mean, beg your pardon?"

The king graciously overlooked his son's slip of tongue and explained, "When you were younger, there were no objections whatsoever against your friendship. But as you are not an elfling anymore, your closeness to her could – possibly – raise certain undesirable suspicions."

Legolas was struggling to process what he had just heard, presumably looking rather dumb while doing so, therefore the king continued, "She undoubtedly has a splendid career ahead of her, assuming that she survives her own recklessness long enough, but she is still nothing but a soldier. And a rather impetuous one with, let us say, occasional outbursts of inappropriateness. All in all, not an ideal companion for a prince, would you not agree? We do not want people to get the wrong impression, do we?" His tone was still casual with a hint of irony, but Legolas sensed that this was a very serious conversation. Apparently he had drastically underestimated his father's insight into his inner life.

He gulped and replied hesitantly, "People always talk…"

"Indeed they do, but I do not wish my son to be the subject of any nonsensical gossip." This time it was an unveiled warning and Legolas had no trouble grasping its meaning. To his own surprise he felt defiance rise in him. Thranduil might wear a crown, but Legolas did not approve of him trying to interfere with his feelings. He held his tongue for the moment, although he sensed that a serious potential for one of their rare father-son conflicts was just about to emerge.

* * *

><p>The training yard was a little too crowded for Legolas' taste, but that afternoon's sword fighting lesson for his three recruits had been scheduled days ago, so there was no way of avoiding the uncomfortable noise level and the shortage of space. The prince had just explained the parrying techniques they were going to practise and all he wanted to do now was sit in a quiet corner, try to ignore his persisting headache and wrap his mind around what his father had told but not told him earlier that day. But as there were three recruits, he needed to step in as a training partner.<p>

As soon as he had finished his explanation, two of the young soldiers immediately paired up, leaving the third one, who always tended to be a little slow, with Legolas. The prince knew exactly that none of them wanted to train with him because, for one thing, they were terrified of accidently hitting him. For another, they did not fancy being hit by him either since they had seen his blades in action for the first time. So usually he ended up with Tavron, the boy who always needed one more explanation and two more tries than the others. It was for the best though, because Legolas felt somewhat protective of him and did not want him to get beaten up by his comrades more often than necessary.

"So, when I attack you like this," Legolas explained and demonstrated his intention, "you turn slightly – not that much – block out my left arm and… No, well, apparently then you die a painful death." He was unable to hold back that sarcastic comment at the sight of Tavron's clumsy attempt to parry the attack. Of course he immediately felt sorry for it and forced an encouraging smile. "Let's try again!"

The recruit did his very best and after a few more hypothetical deaths he seemed to grasp the basic concept. Under normal circumstances Legolas would have been delighted at the pride reflected on the recruit's face, but his headache and the general bad mood he was in kept him from enjoying the small success. He hated himself for being so grumpy, but there was nothing to be done about it.

His recent progress seemed to make Tavron a little cocky; the next time Legolas attacked him, he parried the stroke and tried to hit the prince in return. Legolas, whose mind had wandered off to faraway places, was caught by surprise and made the mistake to let his battle-tested reflexes take over. He blocked the attack, disarmed poor Tavron with two precise movements and startled him so much that he actually stumbled over backwards. In an attempt to stop his fall he put out his hands – and a moment later an unmistakable noise left no doubt that he had just broken his wrist. All this happened within seconds, so Legolas was utterly shocked when his mind finally decided to join him again.

Tavron got up slowly, looking down on his hand in disbelief and pain. He stuttered something incoherent while the other two recruits – as well as far too many soldiers around them – turned their heads curiously. Legolas felt his cheeks flush. Had he really just caused a recruit to break his wrist by a simple parrying manoeuvre?

He shook off the astonishment and helped Tavron up. "I'm so sorry," he managed to say, knowing that it would not help the poor boy at all. "You two," he instructed the recruits, "keep going and try not to behead each other." They nodded, obviously struggling not to look too bewildered. "And we're going to the Houses of Healing," he informed Tavron, who did not seem to understand but followed the prince without resistance.

* * *

><p>Legolas had sunk into the uncomfortable wooden chair in the waiting room several minutes ago and since then he had not bothered to move one muscle. A healer had taken the unfortunate recruit off his hands, leaving the prince to his embarrassment. He was undoubtedly the worst instructor the Woodland Guard had ever seen. Accidents happened, of course, but this one had solely been caused by his own absent-mindedness. He wanted to slap himself, but the headache was bad enough as it was. He dropped his head into his hands and concentrated on the dull throbbing in his temple.<p>

"May I interest you in some willow bark extract?"

The friendly voice made him look up. "My lady," he greeted Nimiel and rose – a little too quickly, as his head reminded him promptly.

The healer assessed him with a well-trained look and decided, "Willow bark extract it is. Come along!"

She left him no chance to answer, so he just followed her to a small room with lots of high shelves full of bottles and boxes of all possible shapes and sizes. She pulled a stool out of a corner and climbed it in order to reach one of the higher shelves. "Hold this," she commanded and handed him a green bottle filled with an indefinable liquid before climbing back down. Legolas eyed the substance suspiciously.

"I heard you broke some poor boy's arm?" Nimiel remarked and took the bottle out of Legolas' hands.

"His wrist!" the prince begged to differ. "And I did not break it, he fell! How was I supposed to know that he would be so easily startled?"

Nimiel arched her eyebrows and threw him a critical look. "Beg your pardon, Your Highness, I did not mean to offend you." The ironic apology made Legolas realise how harshly he had spoken.

"I'm sorry," he gave back and sat down on the stool as Nimiel signalled him.

She reached into a box on another shelf and took out a tiny cup, which she filled to the brim with the strange liquid. "Here's to you!" she said and handed him the unsavoury beverage. Legolas examined it sceptically, but then he resolved that he had nothing to lose and emptied it in one determined gulp. It tasted like fermented grass; not that he had ever experienced that flavour, he just assumed.

Nimiel took the little cup from him and put it into the pocket of her apron. Then she opened another one of the countless bottles from the shelves – she never needed to read their labels to find what she was looking for – and drenched a small piece of linen from a huge basket on the floor in the oily liquid. The fresh smell of lemon balm filled the air.

She gave him the piece of linen to hold under his nose. Legolas breathed in the pleasant scent and was surprised at its prompt vitalising effect. Nimiel stepped behind him and started to massage his temples very gently. The healer's warm fingertips seemed to absorb the pain. Legolas felt relieved and relaxed after having carried around that headache the whole day.

"So, what is it you are so upset about?" Nimiel asked almost casually while her fingers were tracing small circles on Legolas' temples. He immediately awoke from the pleasant trance he had been in for a few moments.

"I'm not…" he started, already knowing that denial never worked with Nimiel.

"Legolas, I have known you since your very first breath of air," she replied without interrupting the massage but applying a little more force than before. "If you wish to deceive me, you will have to make a bigger effort. So, what did Tauriel do, if you do not mind me preying?"

Legolas almost dropped the scented piece of linen. This elleth was almost as good at reading minds as Lady Galadriel, although not half as intimidating. How, in Manwë's name, did his father get along with her so well?

"Why do you assume it was Tauriel who did something to me?" he asked out of mere curiosity. Nimiel smiled; he could not see it but the tone of her voice revealed it.

"Because I have had a lot of practice in recognising guilt on my daughter's face. Since your return from Lothlórien she has carried around the same sour frown as you and during this whole week she has not once mentioned your name."

Legolas nodded. "In fact, it was me who did something very inconsiderate. I would rather not discuss the details, if you please." He took another sniff of lemon balm, just to have something to do.

"Of course, it is none of my business," Nimiel conceded, extending the circles her fingers were drawing to his forehead. "But maybe you should not take all the blame upon yourself."

Legolas could not follow. Before he could even say 'Beg your pardon', Nimiel already explained, "In all those years that you and Tauriel have been friends, it was always you who relented when the two of you had an argument. You were always mature enough to conciliate and soothe her temper – which, as we both know, it not the easiest to deal with."

"Well, I believe my upbringing has taught me a certain amount of civility," the prince pointed out. "I am not some sort of brute, like that corporal…" He stopped, biting his lip. As far as he knew, Tauriel had never officially mentioned her past liaison to her mother, although Nimiel had undoubtedly suspected something and only pretended ignorance out of benevolent discretion. Legolas tried to mask his slip of tongue by adding, "I mean, like some of the corporals and guards and recruits Tauriel works with, who may not treat her very respectfully..." He rolled his eyes and advised himself to stop talking altogether.

"Undoubtedly you are quite the opposite of a brute, my dear Legolas," Nimiel affirmed with a chuckle, "but I wonder if it might not simplify your communication with Tauriel to speak your mind a bit more bluntly once in a while." He did not answer, so she went on, "I myself had to learn long ago that Tauriel sometimes requires… let us call it a gentle little push in the right direction. Her spirit is full of fire that burns too high from time to time."

Legolas could not help but nod in approval. There could not have been a more accurate way to describe Tauriel – well, except the popular figure of speech 'stubborn as a Dwarf'. "I know," he gave back, "but I am afraid it is not in my nature to argue. I'm not as fiery as she is."

Nimiel took her hands off his head and put them on his shoulders. "Indeed you are not," she agreed. "In fact, you remind me of a calm river. But still waters run deep, do they not? Maybe you need to unleash a little riptide?"

* * *

><p>When Legolas came back to the training yard to get his weapons, it was even more crowded than when he had left. His two remaining recruits were waiting at the entrance, guarding his blades for him. "Thank you," he acknowledged the favour with a forced smile and noticed with relief that both of them were still in possession of all their limbs. "Tavron will recover soon, it is nothing… dramatic," he explained, praying to the Valar that his obvious embarrassment would not cause a permanent loss of respect among the recruits. The two of them just nodded, trying very hard to maintain a professional expression, and Legolas was grateful for their effort.<p>

Although his headache was gone, he figured it would be of no use to continue the training session. Nimiel's strange advice had only added to his confusion and he did not trust himself enough to risk another accident. So he dismissed the recruits and decided to leave.

When he turned around, he bumped into a soldier who was just about to squeeze through the doorway behind him. "Watch where you…" he snapped, but he stopped in the middle of the sentence when he realised it was Tauriel, armed to the teeth and looking rather tense.

"Well, excuse me for using this door the way it was intended!" she spat back.

They stared at each other for a moment before Legolas' brain switched itself off and he heard himself say, "Tauriel, I've been meaning to talk to you. Do you have a moment?" He regretted it the same instant, considering that the situation was not exactly ideal.

She frowned and replied slowly, "Uhm, you know, I'm really behind on my training schedule, so…" She had already walked past him.

Legolas felt a wave of anger rise in his chest. Walking out on him seemed to be her new favourite strategy. He knew he would regret it soon, but the impulse of the moment made him go after her and grab her arm maybe a little too roughly.

"What?" she hissed, almost slamming the end of her bow into his face. From the corner of his eyes he noticed that people were watching them, but he did not care at all.

"As you wish," he said and unsheathed his daggers, "let's do some training then, if this is the only way I can get you to acknowledge my existence." Tauriel tilted her head in obvious disapproval. "I'm not fighting you," she answered and turned away from him again.

Legolas' long-accumulated anger suddenly culminated in a red-hot eruption of rage. He stepped into her way and attacked her with his dagger, knowing that she would be fast enough to parry his stroke. Indeed she was and the next thing he felt was a slight pain and a warm liquid running down his cheek.

Tauriel's eyes were glowing with the same fury that had taken over Legolas' mind. He attacked her again and what had been intended as an unconventional conversation starter now turned into a duel worthy of the name. The strokes fell at second intervals and Legolas noticed with completely misplaced satisfaction that it was the first time during the whole day that he was actually feeling awake.

They had done this a hundred times before and knew each other's tactics by heart. Tauriel was usually faster but Legolas was stronger and more precise. Their skills were equal and neither of them would surrender voluntarily, so, judging from the past, this duel would take quite a while until one of them made a random mistake.

A small audience had gathered between the stalagmites and people had started to place bets on either one of the duellists. Legolas threw a quick look around and was rewarded for his imprudence by a knock with one of Tauriel's dagger hilts. "I taught you that!" he grumbled while little white dots appeared in his field of vision.

"You should have known better," it came back, along with a sarcastic smirk a quick dagger sweep that missed his left ear by the width of a finger. He returned the favour by cutting through the stout fabric of her uniform's sleeve, leaving the skin underneath unharmed – the disbelieving look on her face almost made him grin. But no, he reminded himself, this was not supposed to be fun, he was angry and she should better notice!

He took the next opportunity to grab her wrist – carefully, given the latest events – and twisted her arm into a very uncomfortable position until she dropped the dagger while still trying to use the second one to her advantage. But he had seen it coming and quickly caught her other arm, forcing her to drop her second weapon as well.

"You're hurting me!" Tauriel hissed under her breath.

Legolas fought the reflex to release her and apologise. Instead he tightened his grip and whispered in her ear, "Really? I wonder what that feels like."

Before he could even be repulsed by his own viciousness, Tauriel applied full force to free her right arm and a very audible crack indicated the collision of her elbow with his nasal bone. Legolas stumbled backwards, covering his nose with both hands. The pain took a moment to unfold, but then it numbed every other sensation and even the boiling anger started to die down.

Through a haze of blurriness he saw that Tauriel was still standing on the same spot, immobile, staring at him in shock. "Sorry," she finally mumbled, biting her lip.

Legolas' honourable, well-mannered self wanted to reassure her and accept her apology, but another part of him was too busy enjoying the sweetness of revenge. "How about we call it even and you finally stop avoiding that discussion we need to have?" he said in a very nasal but firm voice, loud enough for everybody in the training yard to hear. He did not care a fig that people would probably wonder what important business the prince and the soldier had to discuss – all he intended was to make Tauriel as uncomfortable as possible.

It seemed to work: After throwing a nervous look at the viewers, who made no effort to hide their curiosity, she let out a sigh that was both frustration and unveiled hostility, picked up her daggers and indicated him to follow her with a jerk of her head.

The normally unused weapon storage room between the training yard and the main armoury was the only place they could think of where there would be no unwelcome listeners. Legolas did not try to be polite anymore, he simply pushed the door open and shoved Tauriel inside. The pain in his nose had almost faded, allowing the annoyance at her dismissive behaviour to resurface. He was well aware that this would not help his ultimate cause, but in that moment all he needed was to give vent to all the emotions he had been suppressing for so long.

Tauriel entered the gloomy little room, but stopped at the sight of three guards sitting on a bench. They were wearing their uniforms, which meant that they were probably on duty, but the half-full carafe of wine next to them and the card game they were playing did not fit that notion at all.

Tauriel, being a member of the Special Operations Unit and therefore having a somewhat higher status than the ordinary soldiers, addressed them dryly, "So much for the Palace Guard's proverbial sense of duty. Would you mind…?" The guards eyed Tauriel sceptically, not showing the slightest inclination to move. They had not noticed Legolas yet, but when he stepped into the room their impertinent indifference turned into awkwardness.

He did not know where it came from, but suddenly he heard himself shout at them in a tone of voice so full of authority that it even intimidated himself, "Out! And the next time I see you refuse an order or drink wine during duty, you can hand back those uniforms straight away!" The guards hectically collected their things and hurried out of the storage room.

Legolas was still wondering at himself when he turned back towards Tauriel. She did not seem any less impressed and looked at him with an expression that reflected equal amounts of admiration and fright.

There was a short silence before she finally braced herself and addressed him with an awkward half-grin, "So? What subject is important enough to outweigh a nearly broken nose?" Her face left no doubt that she would have preferred being alone in a spider nest to being stuck in this room with him.

Legolas, however, was not in the mood to beat around the bush. "Do not play dumb with me," he demanded. "I'm not going to spend another week hiding from the obvious. And frankly, I think it's incredibly rude of you to pretend there's nothing more to talk about."

Tauriel's shoulders stiffened and her face turned even more miserable, but somehow she managed to make her voice sound confident when she answered, "I told you that I made a mistake and that I was sorry. I know this doesn't make you feel better, but it's all I can give you. What else do you want me to do?"

Legolas let out a deep breath. "I want you to stop lying. To me and to yourself."

Tauriel's eyes widened. "What? I'm not…"

"The more excuses you make, the longer this is going to take," he interrupted her, surprised at how calm and confident he sounded. Tauriel was speechless for a moment, but then a familiar look of defiance appeared on her face.

"Who do you think you are to tell me that I'm lying to myself?" she hissed angrily. "Has it occurred to you that just because you fall in love with someone, the other person does not necessarily have to return your feelings? I'm sorry, Legolas, I'm really sorry to disappoint you, but…"

That was it. That was the moment when Legolas Thranduilion, Prince of the Woodland Realm, lost all the poise, the composure and the dignity he had been drilled to maintain in every critical situation ever since his childhood. The dam that had been holding back the last bit of his emotions now broke.

"You're sorry?" he shouted back at her. "Well, congratulations, but I'm even more sorry I don't believe you! Don't you think after all this time of being your friend I deserve a little honesty?" Tauriel gulped and took a step back while Legolas continued, "I'm not asking you to return any feelings of mine, because if you don't, it can't be helped. But in that case I want you to explain to me why you did not just tell me so instead of kissing me and then giving me all that gibberish about how this would never work. And why were you crying when I came after you? I know you, Tauriel, and what I saw there was not just indifference or a bad consciousness. I want you to look at me and tell me to my face that you feel nothing for me but friendship, and I promise you that from this moment on you will never hear another word about it from me. Go on, tell me! But this time I'd better believe it."

When he had finished his tirade, he crossed his arms and looked at Tauriel, waiting for a reaction. She only stared at him for what seemed like hours and the silence was thick enough to be sliced. Then she sat down on the bench, covering her face with both hands.

'Please don't start crying,' Legolas wished silently. It broke his heart to be so harsh to her, but he simply could not help it.

Tauriel took a deep breath, then another one and finally she took her hands off her face – tearless, as he noticed with great relief – and whispered, "I can't tell you that. You're right, it would be a lie. Although I wish it was true." She looked up at him, bewildered.

One part of Legolas wanted nothing more than to sit down next to her and comfort her, but he forced himself to stay where he was and asked coldly, "You don't expect me to understand this, do you?"

Tauriel got up and turned her back to him. "It's just a stupid idea, you and me… You're a prince and I'm a soldier – how would that work? What you need is a sweet-tempered, well-educated young lady, not someone like me."

"What I need is still my decision, isn't it?" Legolas replied. His voice was gentle this time, but it left no room for further arguments.

Tauriel turned around to face him. "Your father would hang, draw and quarter me with his bare hands," she pointed out. Legolas could not help but smirk a little, even though the memory of his earlier conversation with the king gave him an uneasy feeling.

"He would probably try. But I won't let him, I promise."

Tauriel made a grimace that was supposed to look like a smile. "I know how important his opinion is to you…"

Why, by the Valar, did she always manage to put her finger on his sore spots with the sureness of a sleepwalker? He interrupted her with a wave of his hand.

"There are certain matters that do not exactly require my father's permission." He was starting to get slightly impatient again, but he turned the annoyance in his voice into a half-mocking tone. "So, what other excuses do you have?"

Tauriel sighed. "The fickle character of a girl who might soon get tired of love and break your heart." The look on her face was dead serious. Legolas blinked a few times to regain control of his expression.

He was not entirely sure if it was meant as teasing when he replied, "Come on, you would be so lucky to have me."

"Oh, would I?" Tauriel's voice was dripping with sarcasm, but her face was still sincere. "Because you're such a great catch, right, Your Highness?" She arched an eyebrow – the familiar expression provided a tiny comfort for Legolas in the strange situation they were in.

Her face froze slowly when he did not answer for a while, until he finally managed to say, "No, actually it is because I care about you and respect you and want you to be happy." It was the most honest thing he could have said and it left Tauriel speechless, thoroughly examining the tips of her boots. The Valar knew how desperately Legolas tried to hold his tongue after that, yet he could not stop himself from adding, "But judging from the past, these are not the qualities you value in a man."

Tauriel's eyes came back from their dive – sparkling with fury. "Would you leave Fiondir out of this? That chapter is closed, so how about you let one go once in a while?"

"I would, but it's sort of carved into my brain," Legolas gave back more sharply than he intended. "Remember that one time when you were crying your eyes out because he had humiliated you in front of your whole unit and called you useless and incapable? I certainly do. And, just to refresh your memory, who was there to comfort you? Who spent the entire night sitting on that freezing rock with you until you finally believed yourself worthy of being treated decently again? You know, these are the things I'm not willing to 'let go' and neither should you. You obviously disagree with me for whatever reason, but you deserve better than that."

At first Tauriel did not show any visible reaction at all, but suddenly a single tear formed in the corner of her eye and started its way down her cheek. She wiped it away angrily but another one came right after it.

"I'm scared, Legolas," she eventually mumbled. "I know how absurd it sounds, but being with Fiondir seemed like a good idea because we meant absolutely nothing to each other. You, on the other hand, are so important to me that the thought of changing anything about our friendship terrifies me. To me, letting people get too close means giving them a chance to hurt me." After a short pause she added, "Although I really want to be more than just your friend." She sighed with resignation. "I'm crazy, aren't I?"

"Absolutely deranged," Legolas replied and shook his head, smiling. He closed the short distance between them and took her in his arms. "Meldis nín," he whispered into her hair, "I would promise you never to hurt you, but as life is impossible to foresee, I hereby give you the solemn permission to break my face if I should ever make the slightest attempt to break your heart."

Tauriel let out a short laugh. "Fair enough," she stated, still trying to fight back her tears. "But what if this goes terribly wrong and leaves us hating each other?"

"What if it doesn't?" Legolas simply asked back and gave her a challenging look. He knew exactly that his ironic half-grin usually irritated Tauriel a lot, but he could not for the life of him get rid of it.

She pondered the question for a moment before she answered, "I guess you're right, we'll never know unless we give it a try."

Legolas tilted his head, smirking. "If you say so…"

She poked him in the ribs, but before he could protest she cut him short with a kiss. This time there were no fireflies, no stars and no magical forest, only a gloomy subterranean storage room full of dusty old pieces of armour, but neither Tauriel nor Legolas minded at all.

"So, any second thoughts?" he teased her, trying to untangle his hand from her hair.

Tauriel rolled her eyes and smiled. "I'll never hear the end of this, will I?"

"Probably not," Legolas admitted and pulled her close again. As far as he was concerned, the day of the broken things had come to the best imaginable ending.


	12. Blue Bellflowers

The first thing Tauriel noticed when she entered the gloomy laboratory on the lowest level of the Houses of Healing was the overwhelming smell. She wrinkled her nose, trying to determine the source of that unique odour, but she gave up as soon as she had to sneeze.

"Good evening and bless you," her brother welcomed her and wiped his hands on the white coat full of undefinable stains he was wearing over his blue healer's robe. He doused the candle he had used to heat up a glass bowl with a reddish brown liquid that Tauriel did not even wish to identify. She had never understood why Amril was so fascinated by all sorts of substances and their effects and interactions. Truth be told, he had already made a few more or less ground-breaking discoveries, such as a very efficient new remedy against spider poison, but Tauriel could not deny that all the countless hours he spent in his smoky little hideaway had not failed to leave their mark on him.

"Do I want to know what you're brewing there?" she asked out of mere politeness while covering her mouth and nose with her handkerchief. Amril came towards her, chuckling. She noticed that his eyes were red and his nose was running, but he seemed as cheerful as an elfling who had just found a colourful bird's feather or a particularly pretty snail shell.

"I'm getting closer to the perfect mixing ratio for the anaesthetic I've been working on for three months. Look!" He rolled up his sleeve and started pinching his own forearm that was covered in a large variety of differently shaped blisters. "I don't feel a thing! It's still a little aggressive but as soon as I add some camomile…"

Tauriel turned away, waving her hand defensively. "Eru! I knew I shouldn't have asked."

While Amril pulled his sleeve back down, Tauriel leaned against a table full of glass bottles and tubes, eyeing her brother sceptically. "Is it really necessary to test all this stuff on yourself?" she asked and tilted her head in direction of the bubbling substance he had just put aside. "I remember the time when you ate that weird yellow mushroom and couldn't stop giggling for six hours…"

"That was fun!" Amril interjected, but Tauriel shook her head.

"Maybe for you, but the rest of us were dead worried. I mean, it's great that you discover so many helpful things, but you shouldn't compromise your own safety."

"Look who's talking!" he gave back and Tauriel did not need further elaboration to get the hint. She cleared her throat and changed the subject.

"So, do we have everything ready for tomorrow?"

Amril took a moment to go through a mental list. "We have the blanket, the salads, the wine, the cider…"

"Plates and cutlery?"

"Yes, already packed. Have you heard back from all the invited guests?" Tauriel nodded. "So, I believe that's all we need to throw Naneth a six thousandth begetting day picnic worthy of the name," Amril concluded with satisfaction, before his face suddenly froze. "Wait! Who is making the cake?"

Now Tauriel was thoroughly confused. "I thought Eilianneth was going to do that?"

"No, she can't, she's visiting her parents and won't come back until tomorrow afternoon."

Once again Tauriel internally rolled her eyes at her sister-in-law's non-existent organisational skills, which annoyed her even more than normally because she felt very exhausted and stressed.

"Fine," she sighed, "looks like I'll have to take my chances at baking then."

Amril stopped himself from laughing in the very last moment. "You? You know as much about cakes as I do about dwarven forging techniques. We could just get a cake from the palace bakery."

"No," Tauriel replied decidedly, "that would be too impersonal! I can do this. How hard can it be to make a simple fruitcake?" Her face reflected the determination of a warrior ready to ride to battle.

Amril grinned. "Very well then. I'll bring a selection of antidotes, just in case." Tauriel acknowledged his gracious offer with a gentle slap of her handkerchief.

When she left the laboratory and the relatively fresh air of the corridor reached her brain, she slowly realised what she had gotten herself into. 'Those fumes really do mess with people's heads,' she stated to herself. 'As if I didn't have enough on my plate as it is!'

Still, a part of her was itching to accept the challenge. She was sick and tired of people telling her how incapable she was of doing anything that was considered typically female. Granted, her lack of talent in arts and music was nothing but remarkable and she had never understood the reward many women found in dealing with children – although she did enjoy playing with her little niece, as long as she could hand her back to Amril and Eilianneth at some point.

Cooking, however, was something she had never felt the slightest inclination to learn. Nimiel in particular had spent hours and hours trying to enthuse her daughter with the culinary arts before she had eventually abandoned that hopeless plan. Tauriel simply did not see the point in it: When she was hungry, she contented herself with food that did not require any time-consuming preparation and apart from special occasions she almost never sat down at a proper table and concentrated on the sole task of eating.

Bringing a homemade cake to the picnic would certainly be a pleasant surprise for Nimiel and restore her faith in her daughter's potential to act like an elleth. So Tauriel resolved to ignore her exhaustion, face the challenge and set out on one of the most demanding missions of her career.

* * *

><p>"Let me guess," Legolas said and threw an appraising look into the basket full of baking ingredients that Tauriel was carrying across the courtyard, "you're developing a new defence strategy that involves eggs and apples as missiles." He had just returned from a routine control along the whole border that had taken him two weeks. Seeing Tauriel with such atypical equipment obviously made him wonder if he had fallen into a parallel universe.<p>

Tauriel needed a moment to process his words before she burst out laughing. "What? No, I'm…"

"Wait, I can figure this out!" he interrupted her, making his face look dead serious. "Is this the iron ration everyone has to survive on in case the Woodland Palace is besieged?"

Tauriel tilted her head. "That's actually a good idea, but no."

Legolas gave her the most investigative look he could manage. "Are you seriously telling me that you are going to bake a cake? Because, frankly, the other two possibilities seemed far more likely."

Tauriel resisted the urge to poke him in the ribs because there were lots of people around and both of them deemed it wise to be careful with public displays of affection. Instead she explained, "It's an emergency solution. Amril and I just noticed that we had no cake for tomorrow's picnic, and as everyone else is busy, I'll have to do my best to make one."

"Can you use some help?" Legolas offered.

Tauriel frowned, although she was of course going to accept. "You've never baked a cake in your life," she pointed out.

"True," he admitted, "but I absolutely have to see this."

The kitchen of the Guard's quarters was an ample and surprisingly well-stocked room that Tauriel had not seen from the inside in weeks. It was empty when they arrived because it was already getting late and the traces of that evening's dinner preparation had long been eliminated. Besides, most of the soldiers shared Tauriel's approach to cooking and did not engage in individual culinary experiments.

"Ideal conditions," Legolas observed, "no witnesses to spread the tale of the grand fruitcake massacre."

Tauriel nodded in approval, but given the favourable circumstances she was in no hurry to proceed with her baking project immediately. She gave Legolas a suggestive smile and he took the opportunity to put his arms around her and gently kiss her neck. "I've missed you," he whispered into her ear. Tauriel used her free hand to caress his cheek before she pulled him closer and covered his lips with hers. They stood there for quite a while, shamefully neglecting the mission they had set out to accomplish, until the heavy basket hanging on her arm eventually reminded Tauriel of the task at hand.

She set the basket on the large, sturdy table in the centre of the room and unpacked the ingredients while Legolas lit the torches on the walls. "I copied this recipe from a cookbook Galion showed me," Tauriel explained and waved a piece of paper. "It's the one that looked the least complicated." Legolas tried to hide his ironic grin by engaging in the task of lighting the fire in the oven.

Tauriel took several bowls from a shelf and arranged them on the table. The sight made a childhood memory cross her mind. "Do you remember how we always wanted to help Galion make biscuits when we were little?"

Legolas nodded. "Of course I do. Although it was mostly for the chance to eat raw dough, as far as I recall. Our cruel battles about who would get to lick the bowl still haunt my dreams." Tauriel chuckled and opened the bag of flour. Legolas had successfully lit the oven and walked over to the table. "What can I do?" he asked, eager to make himself useful.

"First of all you need to wash those sooty hands," Tauriel commanded and pursed her lips disapprovingly. Legolas looked down on his hands, then back at Tauriel. "Don't you dare!" she warned him when she saw his mischievous expression, but it was already too late. All she could do to parry his soot assault was to grab a handful of flour and pay him back in his own coin.

"How old are we again?" Tauriel reasoned with ironic resignation while they were getting rid of the respective black and white stains.

"Never too old to be inappropriate," Legolas replied and Tauriel could tell by his smile how much a little silliness between all his royal duties helped him relax – just like herself, for what it was worth.

"So, back to business," he declared and threw a determined glance at the recipe. "How about you mix the dough and I cut the apples?" Tauriel had no objections; to her all of the required tasks were equally unfamiliar. She started to crack the eggs, cursing under her breath when she had to fish dozens of tiny pieces of eggshell out of the bowl.

She threw a look over to Legolas who was expertly massacring the apples as if they were his opponents in a fairly uneven battle. "You're not supposed to mutilate them, you know," she pointed out, "they probably won't offer much resistance."

Legolas stopped and slowly turned his head towards her. "Trust me, I'm perfectly capable of cutting fruit," he assured her with an arched eyebrow.

Tauriel stared back at him in disbelief. Legolas' sensitivity whenever he imagined his competence to be doubted was a trait he had not yet outgrown since Tauriel had encountered it at their very first meeting.

Although she knew it was unwise, she added, "Excuse me, I'm only trying to optimise the result of our mutual effort." Legolas' reaction convinced her that she had not quite succeeded in making her voice sound friendly. He put down the knife – thank the Valar – and crossed his arms.

"How about you start the optimising process by minding your eggshells instead of telling me how to cut apples?"

'Eru help me!' Tauriel thought. She always pretended to be annoyed by Legolas' lacking ability to take criticism, but, truth be told, despite her current state of mental strain a part of her found it excessively amusing and even a little bit charming when the slightly spoiled Sinda princeling made an appearance.

She resolved that a confrontation would neither benefit the cake project nor her own peace of mind and pulled out the oldest but still most effective of all feminine wiles. "Oh, come on," she said with the sweetest – and dumbest – smile her face could produce, "let's not quarrel about such banalities. You see, I'm really worried about getting this right and you know how bad I am at cooking. That's why I'm so glad to have your support."

She rolled her eyes internally. This manoeuvre was so easy to see through that she had no idea why it worked every single time. She wondered whether she should leave it at that, but then she decided to go one better, just for the fun of it. So she took a step towards him, put her arms around his waist and gave him a look that could have turned a Warg into a purring kitten. "Now stop looking so grim, it doesn't become you at all," she breathed right next to his ear.

Legolas frowned ironically. "You are aware that I'm not actually falling for this but merely admiring your effort, aren't you?" he asked.

"I don't care," Tauriel gave back. "You're smiling, which is exactly what I was going for."

He let out an exhausted sigh and shook his head. "Just stop talking," he ordered and effected his request by shoving an apple slice into her mouth.

So a very self-satisfied Tauriel went back to the dough while Legolas finished the fruit carnage. After checking the recipe once again and performing the absolutely crucial taste test, they poured the dough into a baking mould, distributed the apples on it and put their masterpiece into the oven.

"One quick question," Legolas interjected, studying the recipe. "Do you remember how long it's supposed to stay in there? Because it doesn't say…"

Tauriel frowned. "Right, that would indeed be a useful piece of information." She chewed on her lower lip. "Do you think we could just wait until it starts smelling like cake?"

Legolas shrugged cluelessly. "We'll see," was all he could say to reassure her.

While they were tidying up the table and washing the bowls, Legolas voiced his concern about the upcoming picnic. "I don't know if that's a good idea. It's not that warm yet. Wouldn't it be better to stay indoors?"

Tauriel nodded and explained, "My exact words! But Nimiel insisted on the picnic plan. Apparently that's what they used to do back in Doriath and she didn't accept Amril's and my point that the weather conditions in spring may have been different there."

"They were," Legolas agreed, "my father still complains about the long winters and the chilly springs here every single year."

That notion made another thought cross Tauriel's mind. "Speaking of your family: I bet you didn't know that Nimiel had some serious issues with your grandfather back in the day. When we talked about the picnic, she mentioned that there had been a beautiful meadow full of bluebells near her parents' house – I don't even know exactly what bluebells look like, I've never seen any in our forest… Anyway, that meadow was where Nimiel and her family and friends used to go for their picnics. Until, and now listen, your grandfather turned it into a paddock for his horses! You should have seen her when she told me that. She was downright outraged, after almost six thousand years! He still seems to be a sensitive topic with her…"

Legolas obviously had trouble picturing a furious Nimiel, but he did have something to say about his grandfather. "After all the things I've heard about Lord Oropher, your story doesn't surprise me too much. He must have been, well, let's call it challenging. I mean, if even my father says so…" After a short pause, which Tauriel clearly recognised as an internal struggle, he finally added, "We were never explicitly told so in history class, but apparently it was mainly his fault that the War of the Last Alliance ended in a catastrophe for the Woodland Host. He made a premature advance because he couldn't stand to be told what to do by his commander-in-chief…"

Tauriel tried desperately to turn her very inappropriate chuckle into a cough, but in the end she failed to hide her amusement. "What?" Legolas inquired, already suspecting what she might say next.

"Nothing, absolutely nothing," she lied and bit her fist in order to not laugh out loud.

Legolas came over to her, armed with a wet dishrag. "Are you, by any chance, implying that my grandfather's resistance to advice proved to be hereditary?"

The smirk on his face incited Tauriel to answer, "Well, be it High King Gil-Galad pursuing his war strategy or me trying to protect some innocent apples from mutilation – the similarities are indeed strik-…"

She had not yet finished when she saw the dishrag fly towards her. She ducked away and it landed on the stone floor with a loud splat. "Aww, missed!" she mocked Legolas with a pitiful expression.

He let out a deep breath and conceded, "Granted, I don't like to be lectured, but you have to admit that your control issues only add fuel to the fire."

"My what?" Tauriel protested, "I don't have contr-…"

"Of course you do," it came back immediately, "and they're even worse since you were given those patrol units to supervise." While he walked past her to pick up the dishrag, Tauriel could not stop her eyes from following his every movement maybe a little too anxiously, although she was painfully aware that she could not have provided better proof for his point. "No control issues, I see," he stated laconically and threw the dishrag into a bucket on the floor with the accuracy of an archer.

"Fine!" Tauriel gave in reluctantly. "But I can't help it, it's my job to have things under control. You have no idea how stressful this last week has been." She leaned against the table and bent her neck back and forth and then to both sides. It gave two or three quite audible cracks. Legolas made a grimace.

"Then, as your superior in command, I hereby order you to take a break and relax," he requested, not sounding militarily at all. "You look as tense as a bow-string."

He closed the distance between them, stepped behind her and started to massage her shoulders. Tauriel made no effort to deny how good it felt. When his hands slid beneath her collar, the warm touch reminded her again of how much she had missed him during the past weeks – and not only in a strictly emotional way. She waited another moment before she turned around and remarked as innocently as she could, "I'll do my best to obey your order, but I'm afraid I'll need some more assistance in accomplishing that mission." Her fingers traced a line along his jaw and his neck and the smile that spread over his face let her know that he had got the hint. A very reasonable part of her wondered if this was really such a good idea, given the unconventional surroundings, but the warm shiver that ran down her back when he drew her towards him pushed the concerns of decency aside.

* * *

><p>"What in the name of the Great Yavanna is this?" Her sister-in-law's critical glance at her masterpiece made Tauriel cross her arms in defiance.<p>

"What does it look like?" she gave back, slightly offended.

Eilianneth frowned and looked back and forth between Tauriel and the cake she had brought. "To be honest, I'm not sure I want to try this," she admitted.

Tauriel felt her cheeks flush red. "Well, it's a little crunchier than most cakes are, but I already scraped off all the black bits…"

Amril, who stood next to his wife and had been contemplating the pastry in silence until then, stepped into the breach for his sister, "Don't worry, I'm sure it's a perfectly good cake. It was a last minute solution and Tauriel's effort should be recognised…"

"Ugh, shut up!" Tauriel cut him short, which earned her another disapproving glare from Eilianneth and a grin from Amril.

She withdrew her disregarded artwork from their undeserving eyes and set it on the picnic blanket. The small group of guests – consisting of no more than three people apart from the family – had gathered in the forest clearing that served as the healers' herb plantation. Nimiel had taken the liberty to misuse it for her private purposes just for that one afternoon.

Tauriel smiled at the sight of her mother kneeling on the blanket with Amril and Eilianneth's little daughter, trying to teach her a song about a hungry bee and a vain flower. When the child saw Tauriel, a happy smile spread over her face.

"Look who it is," Nimiel said to the girl and, turning to her daughter, she added, "As soon as her favourite aunt arrives, grandmother's boring old songs are all but forgotten." She laughed in pretended resignation. Tauriel was glad to see her so relaxed and cheerful.

The cake attracted the curious looks of the three invited guests – two of Nimiel's fellow healers and the palace's head seamstress who was her best and oldest friend. Now Tauriel blushed even more. Nimiel had already expressed her appreciation of her daughter's gesture and if there had been any scepticism regarding the cake's quality, she had hid it very well.

The seamstress, however, had never been famous for her tact. "How does one even manage to burn a cake to this degree?" she asked bluntly before Nimiel's glare hit her.

"I-I underestimated the heat of the oven," Tauriel improvised, knowing how stupid her excuse sounded. But still, it was a hundred times less embarrassing than the truth about why she had lost track of the baking time. In order to escape the uncomfortable situation, she picked up her niece and took her for an expedition to the edge of the clearing.

When the little girl had picked enough pretty flowers and admired enough colourful insects, she declared the adventure for successful by starting the return journey to her parents. She crawled onto Amril's lap and proudly showed him a half-rotten acorn she had found beneath an oak tree. Tauriel sat down as far away from the seamstress as she could, which made her end up between Eilianneth and Nimiel.

"You know what," her sister-in-law remarked casually after a while of observing the excited little girl, "a child becomes you." Tauriel's jaw dropped in complete bewilderment. As if that was not enough, somehow Eilianneth had managed to slip her comment into a pause in the general conversation, so that everyone, including the guests, had heard it. Tauriel wanted to dig a hole in the ground and hide.

Instead she worked up an awkward grin and gave back, "So does a bow." She quickly helped herself to a piece of her cake and stuffed it into her mouth, noticing with satisfaction that it did not taste half as horrible as it looked.

Unfortunately Eilianneth was not done yet. "Haven't you ever considered getting married? I'm sure you wouldn't have trouble finding a husband if you only refrained from beating him up." Tauriel saw Amril and Nimiel exchange a worried look. She took a deep breath and continued to chew on her piece of cake, hoping that the wine would soon be opened.

Nimiel, seeing her daughter's distress, could not hold back any longer and started a diversionary manoeuvre. "Tauriel will do whatever she deems best," she interjected diplomatically. "I myself got married at well over four thousand years of age, so I can safely state that she has all the time in the world. By the way, did I ever tell you the story of how my brother's wedding day ended in a complete disaster?"

* * *

><p>The corridors of the Houses of Healing were quiet and dark when Nimiel arrived; both of the night nurses as well as the other present healer seemed to be busy. After taking the day off despite the current shortage of staff, Nimiel had resolved to silence her conscience by doing the night shift.<p>

The last few weeks had been exceptionally hectic and there seemed to be a new spider victim every day. It was the natural course of the year: Every spring the spiders crawled out of their winter hideouts and started to reproduce. During that season their parental instincts – however bizarre that notion appeared – made them more aggressive than ever.

Nimiel shook her head and frowned. Who would have thought that she should live six thousand years only to end up in a forest infested by bloodthirsty beasts? Six thousand years – the number sounded so unreal to her. She did not feel that old yet, and not altogether as wise as she imagined someone of that age should be. Most people at the palace considered her an elleth of great wisdom and skill, but in the face of all the evil and suffering she had seen Nimiel herself sometimes felt utterly inadequate and helpless.

She took a deep breath. No, she would not let the memory of this lovely day be spoiled by gloomy thoughts! The picnic had been a pleasant diversion from her busy work schedule and apart from the minor disagreements between Tauriel and Eilianneth it had been very harmonic. Her daughter-in-law had a veritable talent in accidentally putting her finger on people's uncomfortable spots and this time it had been poor Tauriel's turn. Nimiel was still impressed about how stoically her tempestuous daughter had borne the inconvenient questions about getting married and having children.

Nimiel herself had learned long ago that the best way to satisfy one's curiosity about Tauriel's private life was silent observation rather than blunt questions. She saw a lot more than she spoke out loud, and in Tauriel's case, what she saw made her happy and worried at the same time. She wished to the Valar that Tauriel would be spared the grief that could accompany the risky endeavour of getting involved with nobility. But, Nimiel reminded herself, she was probably just overanxious. The king was not as obstinate as his own father had been, and Legolas, however dutiful he was, would certainly not let any concerns of status come into his way. So Nimiel forced herself to stop worrying for the moment, laughing at the realisation of what a mother hen she could be at times.

She entered the office, where she hoped not to find any alarming messages. The little room was dark, but she did not bother lighting a torch because she could already see that her desk was empty – apart from a vase full of flowers. Nimiel smiled; obviously her colleagues had not forgotten about the fact that their head healer could now rightfully be called old. But a moment later she wondered. Had not Belegor brought a bunch of flowers along with the wishes of all the healers and nurses to the picnic? She took a few steps towards the desk.

She pulled one of the flowers out of the vase and examined it more closely. Could it be? Nimiel gulped as a wave of memories flooded her mind. She had not seen or smelled bluebells in such a long time that she had almost forgotten how much she had loved their scent and colours back in the day. But where did they come from? As far as she knew, bluebells did not grow in Greenwood, at least not where she had ever set foot.

Curiously, she took another close look at the vase, and indeed she found a piece of paper among the flowers. She unfolded it and recognised the distinctive but neat handwriting that she knew very well from all sorts of written orders concerning the administration of the healing quarters. The few lines, dripping with irony but still representing a heart-warming gesture, made her smile and blush at the same time, although she did not quite understand the reason.

'I was unaware that our horse paddock caused you so much distress. Please accept my attempt of redemption, along with my sincerest apologies, however deficient and delayed they may be.'


	13. Grey Wolves

Tauriel's arms felt as heavy as if she were wearing solid steel armour and her eyelids wanted to drop every few seconds. She had spent the whole night on patrol, searching the area west of the palace for a pack of Wargs that had been spotted near a settlement. The guards had not found the creatures so far but the search continued.

Although Tauriel wanted nothing more than crawl into her bed and get some rest, she was dragging herself to the training yard, carrying a basket full of pine cones, and hoped to stay at least half awake during the following two hours. It was a busy time for all the officers who were involved in the training of that year's generation of recruits. After two years of theoretical and practical training they had to pass an intermediate test before starting their probation as part of a regular Guard unit.

Tauriel had been assigned to give them some additional archery lessons, and the challenge of teaching, as much as she enjoyed it most of the time, proved to be more demanding than she had expected. There were five aspiring guards and each one of them had already reached a tolerable skill level, but the mistakes they still made out of carelessness were a thorn in Tauriel's side. She did not strive for perfection, all she asked from the recruits was a reasonable level of dedication. After all, her own reputation would be affected as well if they did not pass their test due to mediocre shooting.

Remembering her own training years, she understood perfectly well under how much pressure the young soldiers were so shortly before the assessment and how little enthusiasm they had left for additional training. Nevertheless she was starting to get slightly annoyed by their attitude. She did her very best to support them, she put her heart and soul into the task of bringing them forward, but all she got in return was some half-hearted effort and very poor discipline. She strongly believed that being nice and understanding to them and getting them excited about their training was the only way to succeed, so that was how she treated them, despite her occasional urges to throw them into the dirt and beat them up. Should they not be grateful for any help they got? And what made them think their future duties would be any less tiresome?

Tauriel shook her head. Had she been the same during her own training period? She strongly doubted it! Although she recalled lots of occasions when she would even have preferred a career as a laundrywoman to all the muscle ache and feelings of inadequateness that came with being a Woodland guard in training, she would never have dared to show anything less than maximum effort to her superiors. Those current recruits, however…

"What foul creature of Morgoth was it that chewed you and spat you out again?" an all too familiar voice welcomed her in the training yard. Tauriel forced her tired eyes to focus, only to see an equally bewildered and sarcastic look on her former corporal's face.

At least she was drowsy enough not to mind his presence too much, she reasoned, and gave back, "Good morning to you too. What are you doing here so early?"

He held up his bow. "Getting used to this. My old one broke two days ago. Did you know that spider fangs could cut through beech wood?"

"I had no idea," Tauriel stated absently and shook her head in an attempt to pretend interest despite her failure to focus on anything but keeping her eyes open. She vaguely remembered that she had to check the targets for the training session and started walking to the other end of the cave.

"What in Eru's name are they doing to you in the Special Operations Unit?" Fiondir inquired with a raised eyebrow when she came scuffling back towards him.

Tauriel shrugged. "Nothing in particular. It's just that I have an archery lesson ahead of me and I've spent the last twenty hours on my feet, half of them running through the forest and chasing some Wargs. Which we did not find, by the way." She let out a sigh of frustration and fought the urge to lean against one of the stalagmites because she knew that she would fall asleep as soon as she started to relax.

"We'll keep our eyes open for any signs," Fiondir answered and, after a short pause, he wanted to know, "How are the recruits progressing?"

Tauriel could not help but frown a little, but she quickly regained control of her face and said indifferently, "Very well. They've reached the required hit rate over short and medium distances and now we're working on moving targets…" She bit her tongue because she could clearly see that he had noticed her frown. She did not want to show any weakness, especially not in front of Fiondir, but her exhaustion was undermining her honourable intentions. "They're fine," she repeated, trying to convince herself just as much as him.

Fiondir nodded slowly and gave her a sceptical "Hmm!" which caused an unexpected wave of defiance to flood Tauriel's tired mind because it reminded her too much of the other teachers' reactions to her problem. She seemed to be the only one who could not handle the recruits and she had no idea what it was that she did differently than the others.

"Why do you care?" she asked more aggressively than intended.

He explained, "It's my turn again this year, one of them will join my unit. As if we didn't have enough trouble with all the spiders out there…"

"Excuse me?" Tauriel's own sharp interjection woke her up for a moment and allowed her to throw a glare at the corporal who had just indirectly insulted her.

He cleared his throat and corrected himself, "You were an exception in every possible way, as you know very well."

This time it was Tauriel who let out a cynical grumble. "I didn't notice a lot of that appreciation," she pointed out and added with as much determination as she could manage, "You better treat your new recruit decently!"

"Then you better make sure I get something I can work with," he simply replied. Tauriel took a mental note to try and persuade the captain to give Fiondir the most thick-skinned of all the recruits – and preferably not one of the girls.

"Do you mind if I stay and shoot some more arrows?" he asked, much to Tauriel's surprise.

Confused at the atypical gesture of politeness, she answered, "Of course. I mean, I can't force you to leave."

"In fact, you can," he objected, tapping the badge on her uniform's shoulder.

Tauriel rolled her eyes. "As if you would obey my order! Besides, I'm practically the same rank as you, only with a different name due to the different type of unit I belong to."

"You are the first cornet in the whole history of the Woodland Guard to acknowledge that," Fiondir stated dryly.

Tauriel let out a short laugh. "I wish you were wrong. That whole chain of command system still seems so strange to me. I mean, can't we all just talk, like normal people, instead of ordering each other around?"

Fiondir smirked sarcastically and said, "If that worked, guard duty would be far more pleasant, but believe me, it doesn't. You'll see that sooner or later." With that he gave her an ironic salute and turned towards his target again.

A moment later Tauriel already heard her five protégés enter the training yard. 'Here we go,' she thought and straightened her back as if to prove to herself that she was ready to face this challenge.

"As a warm-up each of you will shoot these four targets in a row as quickly as you can," Tauriel instructed. "If you miss the centre, you try again. The fastest one doesn't have to throw pine cones today." She held up one of said cones and smiled at the recruits hopefully. At the beginning of every lesson she invented a playful little warm-up that was supposed to raise their motivation. Throwing the pine cones in the air to simulate moving targets was the most unpopular task among the recruits, so Tauriel hoped to bribe their enthusiasm with the chance of avoiding it.

Her hope was crushed after one look at their unimpressed faces. "Can we skip that and move right on to the real practice?" a young ellon with a particularly unmotivated expression asked her as politely as he could.

Tauriel dug her fingernails into her palm. 'Stay calm!' she reminded herself although she already felt her disappointment turn into anger. "No, Cilon, we cannot," she replied instead and tried to maintain her forced smile. "It is important to warm up before the exercises we are going to do today. Why don't you go first?"

He nodded shortly and stepped forward with his bow. He aimed and shot four times, his face void of all emotion, and went back to the end of the line.

His comrades followed his example and shot the targets very methodically, completely missing the purpose of the game, but Tauriel waited a while until she explained once again, "You know, the point is to be fast…" The recruit who was currently shooting glanced over to her teacher and made a tiny attempt to move more quickly. In the end that left her as the winner of the game, but her excitement could certainly have been more visible.

After the warm-up they moved on to their current field of practice. While positioning the basket full of pine cones in a strategic spot, Tauriel threw a look over to Fiondir. He caught it and made no effort to hide his disapproval. Tauriel ignored him and focused on her recruits again.

"Do you remember the exercise?" she inquired and obtained five more or less confident nods. The principle was simple: One recruit threw a pine cone in the air and another one had to bring it down with an arrow. The exercise could be varied by different trajectories and shooting angles but for the moment Tauriel only concentrated on the basic concept of hitting these small moving targets without adding any further difficulty.

The recruits took turns throwing and shooting and Tauriel was almost impressed by the results, but after a few rounds they got bored and probably a little spoiled by her praise. They began to throw the cones in different ways that made it impossible for their comrades to hit them. At first Tauriel could not help but laugh with them at their fruitless but very original attempts. At least now they seemed to wake up and really make an effort. However, after a while the arrows started to go too far astray and when she had almost been hit twice, Tauriel resolved that she had to get the recruits refocused. "Could you do me a favour and do this correctly?" she tried her luck. "You know this will be part of your test…"

"Tauriel?" one of the female recruits addressed her abruptly and held up her bow with a questioning look.

Tauriel turned towards the girl and suppressed her frown. "I also have a rank, but that's fine," she replied dryly, wondering if her palms were already bleeding from all the times her fingernails had been buried in them. "What is it?" But before she got an answer, a buzzing noise and the sound of an impact, followed by a scream, drew her attention away from the girl.

Everything had happened very quickly, so Tauriel only saw the result of the accident: One of the recruits – it was Cilon, who had just been shooting – was kneeling on the floor and staring down at his thigh in shock. There was a cut in his trousers and the edges were starting to turn red. Tauriel rushed towards him, quickly scanning the rest of the situation. An arrow lay next to him – but it was not the kind they used in training. She stopped and slowly turned her head to the other side of the training yard. Fiondir was approaching them, holding his bow in one hand and a training arrow in the other, an annoyed look on his face.

Now not even her own fingernails could stop Tauriel from exploding anymore. "What is wrong with you?" she shouted at the corporal who could not have looked more indifferent. "Did you just…? Why would you…?" The sheer lack of words to express the amount of disbelief and fury she was feeling made her stop yelling and crouch down next to the injured recruit instead.

She noticed with relief that his wound gave no reason to worry. The arrow had only grazed his thigh and the worst part of it was probably the shock. "Calm down," Tauriel addressed him firmly, "it's nothing dramatic."

"I-I didn't mean to…" he stuttered, looking back and forth between Tauriel and Fiondir. "I'm s-sorry, Corporal, i-it was an accident." Tauriel put her hand on his shoulder to silence him and glared up at the corporal, not deeming him worthy of one more word.

He simply shrugged and said, "What? I can't defend myself if one of these clueless imbeciles attempts to shoot me?"

"I'm sorry," Cilon repeated, but Fiondir cut him short, "Quiet! You should pray to every single Vala not to end up in my unit!" Now all of the young soldiers, not just the unfortunate archer, exchanged nervous looks.

Tauriel rose from the floor and hissed at Fiondir, "Would you stop threatening my recruits? And as for this violent assault…"

"Which I call a life lesson," Fiondir gave back, still infuriatingly calm. "Whenever they miss their aim, there will probably be a creature out there that won't. Someone has to introduce them to the reality of guard duty if their own teacher fails to do so."

Tauriel gasped. She thanked the Great Nienna for giving her enough patience not to go for his throat. "Can we – please – not discuss this in the presence of five other people?" she asked instead. It was not meant half as politely as it sounded.

"Very well," Fiondir agreed and turned to the recruits. "Out!" Although that was not what Tauriel had intended, she could not help but be a little impressed: She had never seen them obey an order so quickly; even poor injured Cilon managed to leave the training yard in no time.

When they were out of earshot, Tauriel faced Fiondir and spat at him, "What was that about? You just attacked a recruit and undermined my authority in front of my students!"

He let out a sarcastic snort. "Come on, the arrow hardly touched him. And as for your second point: What authority? They clearly have no respect for you whatsoever. I hate to say this, my dear Tauriel, but I can't even blame them."

"Beg your pardon?" Tauriel felt her face flush red. She could not think of anything more intelligent to say because he had just spoken out loud what she had been painfully aware of for a long time.

"You're far too nice to them," Fiondir went on. "Playing games with them and laughing about their misbehaviour… And those arrows flying criss-cross about the training yard – that was incredibly dangerous! You can't tolerate things like that!"

Tauriel crossed her arms and replied, "I happen to believe in a friendly approach to teaching. At least my recruits aren't terrified of me." She glared at him aggressively but Fiondir only shrugged.

"Sometimes a healthy amount of fear can be very beneficial to a soldier's attitude," he claimed.

Tauriel shook her head. "Well, I disagree."

They stared at each other for a moment before Fiondir said, "Fine, do whatever you want. But with this philosophy you won't get them through their test – which would be a terrible waste, not only with regards to them."

He turned on his heels and left the training yard, undoubtedly frightening the recruits once again on his way out. Tauriel just stood there in silence for a while, then she summoned all her strength and courage and called them back in.

* * *

><p>Not that Tauriel had still been sound asleep – after all she was not a mortal woman or even a Dwarf who had to spend half her life asleep in order to function tolerably – but the knock at her door startled her nevertheless. "Just a moment!" she called and quickly rose from her bed – she had not even bothered taking off her uniform and crawling under the blanket, so the unexpected visitor would not find her in a too improper state. However, the door already being opened regardless of what she had just said, made her exclaim, "When did you hear me say 'Ent-…'? Oh, it's you."<p>

Legolas quickly squeezed through the door crack and closed it as quietly as he could. "Sorry," he mumbled, "two people just came around the corner and I thought they did not necessarily have to see me come in her."

He grinned apologetically but Tauriel replied, "Your discretion honours you, but this is the Woodland Palace. I would be surprised if there was anyone who did not know by now." A smile of both amusement and resignation flashed over her face while she tried to untangle the worst snarls in her hair.

"What brings you here anyway?" she asked and invited him in with a wave of her hand. The chambers in the Guard's quarters were small, but still there was no need for a guest to stand around at the door the whole time. Tauriel smiled internally at Legolas' impeccable manners that made him wait for the hostess' signal although he had been in her chamber a thousand times and knew exactly that he could make himself at home without further permission.

He held up a book and said, "I wanted to return this to you – thank you for lending it to me." He placed the book on the small table at the opposite wall and leaned against it while contemplating Tauriel's struggle with her hair.

Noticing his amusement, she stopped combing it with her fingers and observed, "Right, because that couldn't possibly wait until tonight when I'm going to report to you anyway."

"Fine," he gave in, grinning, "obviously there is no chance of deceiving you. I simply wanted to see you."

Tauriel smiled widely. "Now I'm relieved. I was beginning to wonder if you had really faced all these adversaries, such as gossipy soldiers in the corridors and your own busy schedule, to come here on errand alone." She had approached him and wrapped her arms around his neck, being rewarded with a kiss and a helping hand in the cumbersome endeavour of untangling her hair.

After a while Tauriel's thoughts wandered back to business and she inquired, "What about the untraceable Warg pack? Has it been found yet?"

A worried expression appeared on Legolas' face. "No, they seem to be more cunning than most of their kind."

"Sorry we disappointed you," Tauriel said with a frown, but Legolas stopped her by taking her hand.

"It's no more your fault than mine or anyone else's. There are enough watchmen at every settlement, so we don't need to worry too much for now. If the patrol units have not found the pack by tomorrow morning, we're going to launch a more extensive search. In fact, I would like you to join the party because you are familiar with the area. Given that your recruits can spare you for a day or two..."

Tauriel made no effort to hide her approval. "Absolutely! They can practise sword fighting instead. I guess they've had enough of bows and arrows for a while after today."

"Why, what happened?" Legolas asked curiously, taking the liberty of sitting on the table top because he did not want to occupy the only chair in the room. Tauriel, however, had no use for it either and claimed the space next to him.

"To be honest," she explained and leaned against his shoulder, "the lesson was a disaster. I don't know what I'm doing wrong, but I can't get them to take anything seriously." She sighed cluelessly and managed a weak grin when she felt Legolas' hand on her back.

"Still that bad?" he asked, painfully reminding her that she had already complained about the recruits far too often, although she knew that his remark had not been meant that way.

He offered her the same advice he had given her on several occasions before, "You can't do more than try. If they're too immature to accept the help you're offering them, it's not your problem. I know you want them to succeed, but in the end teaching is nothing but a temporary side task for you. You shouldn't let one minor difficulty make you doubt yourself so much."

Tauriel's face started smiling all by itself at his effort to make her feel better, however fruitless it was. "Thank you," she whispered in his ear and put her arms around him, "but maybe you should hear the story first."

"I'm all ears," he replied not too convincingly, but somehow he still managed to focus on what she was saying, despite the distracting circumstance of her warm breath on his neck.

"One of them got shot in the leg today," she admitted, causing Legolas to straighten his posture abruptly and stare at her in disbelief. "Not by me, by Fiondir!" Tauriel specified quickly, "and the boy was not completely innocent. It was only a graze… Now will you stop looking at me like this?" She nudged him with her elbow.

Legolas shook off his astonishment and interjected, "Wait a moment, what does Fiondir have to do with your recruits?"

"He happened to be in the training yard and, well, one of them almost shot him. So he deemed it necessary to teach them a very ... emphatic lesson." Legolas made no effort to hide his contempt and he did not even have to say anything for Tauriel to understand.

After a short pause she continued, "You know what Fiondir said to me? He basically told me that I have no leadership qualities whatsoever because I'm too lax with my subordinates. And the worst part is that I think he has a point. I mean, let's be honest, even the recruits don't give an Orc's toenail about my orders." She sighed, looking up at him. "Do you think he's right?"

The awkwardness reflected on Legolas' face could not be accurately described by any word in the tongues of Elves, Men and Dwarves. "The Forest Guard units you supervise function perfectly..." was his weak attempt to reassure her, but Tauriel saw right through it.

"As long as they agree with me, yes. But the only time I've ever tried to introduce a tiny change to their routine, it took me two weeks and endless discussions with the corporals to even get them to consider my idea. Is that how the often quoted chain of command is supposed to work?"

Legolas looked as if he was close to imploding. "You know how much I loathe saying this..." he started hesitantly, but Tauriel interrupted him, "Oh, Eru! You do agree with Fiondir." It was not a question and there was no bitterness in her voice.

"I certainly don't approve of his methods," Legolas clarified firmly.

'Or his existence, for what it's worth,' Tauriel added in her mind, clearly remembering their nerve-racking quarrels in the past, before Legolas went on, "But maybe it would simplify your work if you tried to be a little more... determined. I know you don't like the whole principle of commanding other people and I know how difficult it is to find the right tone – I struggled a lot at first, too."

"You have been groomed into ordering people around since the very day you were born!" Tauriel pointed out and Legolas, after a moment of doubt and a nearly invisible blush, had to relent.

"Fine, maybe it is easier for me. But I still think you are capable of being an excellent leader. You have a talent for strategy and organising, we've seen that on many occasions. You will grow into the rest of it once you are in a position that requires you to command larger units."

It was meant as an encouragement, but Tauriel only shrugged and shook her head. "I don't want to command anything larger than my occasional patrol units! I'm perfectly content with my current position." When she saw a sudden inexplicable frown flash over Legolas' face, she concluded that she needed to explain her opinion in more detail and added, "I like the sort of work where I can do things on my own, be responsible for my safety alone and not suffer the consequences of anyone's mistakes but mine. A high rank doesn't necessarily hold many advantages that outweigh this kind of freedom. Take Lieutenant Glorendir, for example. Do you think the spider that ripped off his head last week checked his insignia first? I'm telling you, I don't envy the person who has to take over the Southern Division now, whoever that may be."

For some reason Legolas' expression became even more uncomfortable for the split of a second, but then his face lightened up again and he reached for her hand. "Time will tell. I think you just need a little more practice. Now please do me a favour and get rid of that sour frown. Your smile is far too beautiful to be hidden under all these layers of glumness."

* * *

><p>As expected, the Warg pack had not been discovered by the following morning, so Tauriel honoured her promise and reported for duty at the main gate, armed to the teeth and ready to make up for her earlier failure in eliminating the threat. She had expected to encounter soldiers from her own unit or at least some of the guards she usually worked with. Her bewilderment could not have been bigger at the sight of the six grim-faced fellows gathered in the courtyard.<p>

"Why did you pick them of all people?" she asked Legolas under her breath as soon as the unit had started moving.

He shrugged and gave her a rather enigmatic look. "I don't know, because they were available… It was a last minute decision. Why, what's wrong with them?" Tauriel just shook her head; she knew better than to discuss the subject any further.

So much for her intention to finally get rid of the Wargs! The soldiers Legolas was taking on this mission did not look very trustworthy to Tauriel. She recognised three of them as watchmen who normally stood sentry around the palace, two others belonged to a Border Guard unit in the East, and the last one did not look familiar at all. One thing all of them had in common was the fact that they seemed rather unenthusiastic and – as Tauriel observed on the way through the forest – not very skilled at subtlety. Of course each one of them could still have shot a Dwarf in the dark or bound a Troll's feet without him even noticing, but that was not the standard a soldier of the Woodland Guard should be judged by. Tauriel cursed Legolas for his carelessness in choosing the members of the hunting party, yet she could do nothing but hope for the best possible outcome.

The group split up at a road junction near the settlement where the Wargs had been seen for the last time. Given the less than ideal circumstances, Tauriel would have proceeded differently, but she could not argue with the prince in the presence of six other guards.

She and Legolas went further west and advanced deep into an uninhabited and particularly inhospitable part of the forest. The air smelled even fouler than in most areas and the trees were covered in strange parasite vegetation of all but unnatural colours. All in all, the ultimate feel-good place for Wargs, Tauriel reasoned and checked the position of her bow and daggers once more.

She pulled her foot out of a muddy puddle that gave a disgusting squelch. She did not mind, though, in fact she even counted her blessings for being on this mission.

Assignments like this one had become her daily business. On many occasions her success had convinced the captain as well as the prince that she was their best bet when they needed a risky mission to be carried out discreetly and efficiently. Roaming the forest and tracking down intruders was something she had always been good at, and despite getting dirty and cold and bored sometimes, she liked that sort of task much better than the more representative part of guard duty. Standing in the throne room in parade armour while the king was holding audiences or accompanying him on official visits was Tauriel's personal nightmare because she never managed to get through those endless hours without at least one inappropriate incident that could range from a loud sneeze in the wrong moment to a premature assault on a guest who only wanted to greet the king with a heartfelt embrace. Fortunately the trees in the forest did not insist on any strict code of behaviour and neither did the spiders, Orcs and Wargs that Tauriel encountered there.

Legolas, who was walking on her right, suddenly froze and signalled her to stop. Tauriel held her breath and threw him a questioning look. With a jerk of his head he indicated the direction where he had heard a suspicious noise and Tauriel reached for her bow. The branches of the elder bushes only a few steps ahead of them started rustling and an animal's heavy breath could be heard. Tauriel felt her own heartbeat in her throat and her nerves got as tense as her bowstring. A flicker of grey fur flashed behind the elder bushes. 'So we meet at last,' Tauriel stated to herself while tightening her grip around the bow and drawing an arrow.

She exchanged another look with Legolas and slowly, very slowly, they started to move forward. They did not need words to communicate in that kind of situation because both of them knew exactly what they were doing and had been hunting together for long enough to anticipate each other's every step. The rustling did not sound so near anymore. Legolas found a gap between the elder bushes and bowed his head to Tauriel in ironic politeness. He bent the branches, pretending to hold a door open for her. She grinned and rolled her eyes, remembering that this time it was indeed her turn to go first after Legolas had entered a spider nest before her a few weeks earlier.

She squeezed through the gap, glad that it was just elder bushes instead of anything thorny, but wrinkling her nose a little at the sticky brown liquid that dripped onto her shoulder from a strangely shaped bud right above her. Legolas followed her through the gap and they found themselves in the middle of a field of thick but low shrubbery. The awful smell and the pieces of grey and brown fur clinging to bushes and tree trunks indicated that they had probably discovered the Warg pack's sleeping place. Tauriel listened to the sounds of the forest and could distinguish something that she thought to be animals' footsteps. She gestured at Legolas and started following the noise.

She had not taken more than ten steps when a loud growl made her freeze and raise her bow. An instant later a huge dark grey creature burst out of the shadows and bared its yellow teeth at her. Before Tauriel could release her shot, she heard a buzz next to her left ear and saw the Warg collapse right in front of her, an arrow sticking out of its eye.

"I could have done this myself!" she hissed, but the growing rustles and growls around them indicated that she would get her next chance soon enough. Indeed it did not take ten seconds until more Wargs emerged between the trees. Tauriel counted fourteen and thought it wise to call for assistance before she started shooting, so she imitated a grey owl's whistle while aiming at a Warg with particularly dishevelled and bristly fur. The arrow left her bow, but the creature was more intelligent than she had anticipated. It took a step aside, avoided the arrow and attacked her in return with one giant leap.

Tauriel felt rough paws on her shoulders and barely had time to draw her daggers before she felt the beast's warm, stinking breath on her face. 'You should have chewed some herbs once in a while,' she thought, thrust her dagger into its fur-covered ribcage and twisted it until the beast gave a shriek and slumped to the ground. To her relief she saw Legolas still on his feet and shooting one attacker after another. Tauriel took up her bow again and joined him, bringing down two more Wargs before she saw four of their comrades burst out of the shadows.

The sight of the additional enemies seemed to scare the seven remaining beasts enough to make them start howling angrily and retreat into the coppice. Tauriel lowered her bow and caught her breath. The Warg's claws had cut through one of her sleeves and left a bleeding scratch mark on her upper arm, but there was no time to worry about that sort of minor problems now.

"They went off in direction of the settlement," Tauriel observed.

A frown that could be translated to 'Of course, what else?' appeared on Legolas's face. "After them!" he commanded and took a few steps forward – and then Tauriel and the four guards witnessed something none of them had ever seen in their entire elven lives: The Prince of the Woodland Realm stumbled over a tree root and fell face first, just like that, as if he were nothing but a clumsy Adan! And if that was not enough, he even managed to hit his knee on a stone or another root or whatever it was – Tauriel did not want to know. She just stood there for a moment and stared at him. The faces of the other soldiers reflected an equal amount of astonishment and none of them knew where to look or what to do in this awkward situation. Who had ever seen an Elda trip over a root and bury his face in the mud?

Legolas pushed himself up and tried hard to hide his embarrassment behind a slightly moronic grin. He made an attempt to get on his feet – only to freeze right in the middle of the movement before sinking back down, silently, but his face contorted with pain.

"Uhm, Leg-… Your Highness?" Tauriel addressed him hesitantly and knelt down next to him.

"Eru, that hurts," he uttered behind gritted teeth and stretched out his left leg, rubbing his knee.

Tauriel struggled to suppress a disbelieving frown. "Shall I… help you up?" she offered and hoped fiercely that her voice sounded a least half as patient as it should. There were seven bloodthirsty Wargs to be caught, for Orome's sake, and if they did not take up pursuit soon, the beasts would probably vanish again for several days!

Legolas gave her a half grateful, half angry grumble and leaned on her arm while getting up. Very carefully he tried to put his weight on his left leg, but at some point it gave way and he would have fallen again if it had not been for Tauriel's supporting arm. "The Valar know how much I hate myself right now, but it looks like you have to go after them without me," he stated and bit his tongue. "The unit is all yours."

"Well, we're not leaving you here on your own," Tauriel gave back and added to the soldiers, "Who wants to stay with the prince?" She looked into four clueless faces and the next moment she wanted to slap herself. There they were again, her non-existent leadership qualities...

Before she could correct her mistake and simply appoint one of them to stay, the call of a grey owl violently interrupted her train of thought. She threw an indecisive look in the direction where it had come from, then another at Legolas and the guards. Suddenly the whole situation seemed utterly absurd to her. A completely inadequate unit, an injured prince, a Warg pack on the loose – and Tauriel in the middle of everything, her rank forcing her to assume responsibility for the outcome of this whole Eru-forsaken mess! Both despair and defiance entered her mind to engage in a short but cruel battle.

Not more than a second later one of them fell shattered into the depths of her conscience. Tauriel straightened her shoulders, cleared her throat and said firmly to the soldier closest to Legolas, "You stay with the prince."

He gave her a frown and replied sceptically, "But the rules say that every force available has to be mobilised in case of an emergen-..."

Tauriel interrupted him with a wave of her hand. Maybe it was the frustration that had accumulated inside her during the last few days, or her worry about Legolas, or the fact that there were twenty villagers close by who could be attacked by some wild beasts in this very moment, or maybe it was simply the anger at the soldier's impertinent response – she did not know where it came from, but all of a sudden she felt a glowing ball of pure strength form in her chest. She looked at the guard, took a deep breath and said in a voice that was so calm and determined that it almost scared herself, "You heard me. You two won't move until we come back to get you. The rest of you," she turned to the other three guards, "follow me!" With that she set off into the coppice, not looking back to check if they were indeed coming after her because for some reason she already knew that they were.

* * *

><p>The prince had been lingering around the courtyard as casually as he could for quite some time before he finally saw the patrol unit pass the main gate. He threw a quick look at Tauriel and she returned an icy glare. Legolas grinned to himself. Her effort to be angry with him since the day of the hunting party was too hilarious to be taken seriously.<p>

It was true, Legolas had resorted to a fairly unconventional method in order to give her some realistic practice in leadership. His pretended fall and the make-believe injury had been quite a challenge for his acting skills and he could not help but be a little proud of his theatrical performance. The hardest part had been to keep up the limp during the whole way home and its gradual reduction over the following days. The rumours that had spread about the prince's disgraceful accident had been rather inconvenient and even his father had made one or two snide remarks about the matter over dinner, but Legolas had borne it bravely because the truth would have been even more awkward to explain.

Eventually Tauriel had suspected something and he had made the mistake of admitting his manoeuvre to her in a moment of poor judgement. Since then she preferred not to speak to him, but he could see that the reason for it was merely her pride and not so much her actual opinion about his little trick.

All in all, he was satisfied with the outcome of his well-meant deceit. Tauriel had done excellently as a provisional commander and the rest of the Warg pack had been eliminated without further difficulty. Sending six of the most unsuitable soldiers of the whole Woodland Guard on such a sensitive mission had been quite a gamble, he could not deny that. But still, his trust in Tauriel had paid off. He knew that taking her out of her comfort zone and putting a little healthy amount of pressure on her was the best way to obtain maximum performance from her. Granted, making her believe that she was solely responsible for the safety of a village threatened by Wargs might have been a slight exaggeration, but after all, the end justified the means.

In this case, the end was something that Tauriel herself was not aware of yet but was just about to find out. Legolas had known it for a few days and was impressed by himself for being so discreet about it. Truth be told, he had dropped a few hints, just to see how she would react to them, but her less than enthusiastic attitude had silenced him soon enough. In fact, the whole reason for his act in the forest had been Tauriel's unfavourable view of what would happen to her in just a few minutes.

Legolas waited until Tauriel had dismissed her four guards, then he approached her with a somewhat awkward smile. "Good evening," he greeted her casually and was rewarded with a frown.

"I'm not talking to you," she gave back, obviously struggling to maintain her grim expression.

"Very well then, I do deserve your resentment," he admitted with a smirk. "But the captain wants to see you, he's already expecting you in the office." In his head he added, 'After you hear his news, you'll probably have one more reason to be angry with me.' Tauriel nodded shortly and started her way to the captain's office while Legolas resumed his air of nonchalance and decided to wait for her in the courtyard.

Half an hour passed until she came back out, looking confused, scared and excited all at once. She walked towards him and stared at him in silence for a good while. Finally she asked, "You knew about this, didn't you?"

Legolas slowly tilted his head. "I did. But I swear in the name of Manwe that it was the captain's idea!"

Tauriel gave him another long and painful glare before a grin spread over her face. "I don't guarantee for anything. The Southern Division may descend into complete and utter chaos with me in charge. You'll certainly hear me complain a lot."

Legolas just laughed and replied, "Complain all you want, I'm still looking forward to working with you, Lieutenant."


	14. Brown Apple Seeds

The heads of the three lieutenants turned to the door in one synchronised movement when Tauriel entered the office. She was soaking wet, her hair was full of tree bark and cobweb and her boots left a muddy trace on the stone floor. The lieutenants slowly assessed her from head to toe, disdain dripping from their faces like the water from Tauriel's uniform. Obviously none of them had been in the forest during the cloudburst that was currently drowning the Woodelves' plans of celebrating Mettare, the last day of the old year, and Yestare, the beginning of the new one, with a large feast in the courtyard. The lieutenants looked perfectly dry, prim and proper and were apparently hoping for this weekly meeting to be over as soon as possible. Tauriel could not blame them; these routine gatherings were a tiresome and rather pointless necessity imposed on them by the captain – who was not even with them that afternoon due to a journey.

"Look who has decided to grace us with her presence," was the grumbled welcome that came from Orchalon, lieutenant of the Forest Guard, who had never bothered to conceal his dislike for Tauriel since she had taken his good friend Glorendir's place. She had stopped minding a while ago because she understood that his resentment was caused by grief, although she thought it quite unjust and unprofessional of him to blame her for something she had never chosen.

She gave him a cold smile and replied to all of them, "I apologise for keeping you waiting. In my defence, I have the longest way to the palace." 'And unlike you, I actually stayed on my post till the end of my shift,' she added in her mind. With that she claimed the last empty seat, put that week's journal on the table in front of her and threw an expectant look at Alation, the leader of the Palace Guard, who was going to chair the meeting.

He seemed rather distracted by the state Tauriel was in. He glanced worriedly at her wet hair and her dripping uniform and offered, "Shall I have a soldier fetch you a towel? It cannot be agreeable – nor healthy – to sit around in such wet clothes."

Tauriel's jaw almost dropped while she noticed the other two lieutenants frown and grin respectively. "Thank you, I'm fine," she managed to answer and asked herself when Alation would finally stop treating her like some sort of delicate artwork that had to be handled with kid gloves or else it would break. Had he really never dealt with a female lieutenant before? Or was it the fact that she was so much younger than him that prompted his protective instinct? Truth be told, it made Tauriel furious. Nevertheless she forced her face into a reassuring smile.

"Very well then, I believe it is in everyone's interest to keep this short and simple," Alation finally began, arranging his pile of paper and dipping his quill into the inkwell.

Orchalon contributed grimly, "Indeed it is, after waiting half an hour…" He glared at Tauriel, gaining himself an elbow nudge from the lieutenant of the Northern Border Guard, named Tuven, who was sitting next to him.

"Where are your manners, mellon? That's not how you address a lady," he whispered to his comrade, deliberately speaking loud enough for Tauriel to hear and with a fairly improper smirk on his face. She ignored him as best she could and exchanged an ironic look of silent suffering with Alation, who proceeded as if nothing had happened.

"If there are no urgent issues to be discussed," he paused, looking at his comrades one after another, "which does not seem to be the case, then I suggest we move right on to the weekly reports." Three approving nods made him continue, "I will take the liberty to start with the Palace Guard: There were no alarming incidents at the gates, including the watergate and the underground passages. The palace's surroundings are clear and tonight's festivities will be secured by us in a one mile radius, as usual." He looked up from his journal and addressed Orchalon, "Which reminds me: I could use five additional men at the settlement near the Lower Crossroads for the next two days."

"Five?" Orchalon gave back reproachfully. "I can give you two… fine, three. But this is the last time, you need to administer your resources properly!" He shook his head, mumbled something along the lines of 'spoiled Sinda palace guard, hasn't seen a spider in a thousand years' and scribbled a note in his journal.

Alation smiled and bowed his head gracefully, "I appreciate your favour, mellon nín. Now, shall we proceed to the Northern Division?"

Tuven cleared his throat and recited lazily, "Two Goblin attacks at the Western Watch Post, probably from Hithaeglir, all intruders removed, no damage among the guards." After a short pause he added, as if he was just recalling it, "Oh, and there was a Troll wandering the Old Path, but we left him alone because we saw him drink from the Stream of Oblivion and figured that the problem would solve itself sooner or later." He closed his journal and leaned back in his chair.

Alation acknowledged Tuven's contribution with a nod and turned the floor over to Orchalon. To no one's surprise he started grumbling again immediately, "That Troll you let run loose was spotted by a hunter and caused a veritable outrage amongst the villagers. When we found him, he was sound asleep right in the middle of the Old Path – have you ever tried to move an unconscious Mountain Troll? One of my soldiers pulled his back trying to lift one of his legs."

Tuven suppressed a smirk, which Tauriel found very uncomradely until she noticed that the corners of her own mouth had not stayed where they belonged either.

"I don't find that half as amusing as you do. Next time get rid of your own Trolls!" Orchalon snarled at Tuven. Fortunately he had not noticed Tauriel's grin.

Before he could talk himself into a rage, Alation intervened decidedly, "Calm yourselves! Have there been any more incidents you wish to report, Orchalon?"

The Forest Guard lieutenant shook his head and stated somewhat reluctantly, "No, nothing. Surprisingly we did not encounter many spiders. Usually, during the spring, there are at least two swarms per month that try to enter our zone from the South, but for the last five weeks there has not been a single new nest. We have only had to deal with the existing ones. They seem to be late this year."

Tauriel managed to hold her tongue in the very last moment. The spiders were not late, nor were they particularly scarce that spring. She touched the bandage around her left forearm and concentrated on the texture of the linen in order to refrain from any misplaced but justified comments.

Alation, however, signalled her that it was her turn to give her report. She straightened her shoulders, threw another look at her journal and began, "The Southern Division eliminated three swarms of spiders this week, coming to a total count of twenty-eight beasts. None escaped, as far as we know. Two soldiers were slightly injured, but they have already reported back for duty. The watch in the area closest to Dol Guldur has been doubled due to the increasing amount of spider activity during this time of the year." Tauriel paused, trying not to look at Orchalon.

"You doubled the watch?" Tuven inquired. "I assume your troops will need temporary reinforcement from my division then?"

Tauriel shook her head, slightly surprised, "No, actually… I didn't even know that was an option… I thank you for your generous offer, but we manage. We are currently testing some changes in the distribution of the watch posts and it seems to work quite well so far."

Orchalon snorted, "Already changing your predecessor's system, are you? After only two months."

At first Tauriel was not sure she had heard him right, but then the only way she could stop herself from returning a snide remark was to bury her fingernails in the softwood of the tabletop. She took a deep breath, and yet after weeks of swallowing Orchalon's subtextual insults, she could not refrain from replying, "If you insist, I will be happy to go back to the old system and let the Forest Guard deal with all the spiders in spring fever again."

The silence in the office was thick enough to be sliced. Tauriel suddenly regretted her boldness; after all Orchalon had already been a lieutenant when she had served as nothing but a little recruit. She bit her tongue, looking around nervously. Tuven made a grimace that was undoubtedly meant as a curtsy to the painful truth that Tauriel had just thrown into Orchalon's face. She could very well have gone without that sort of appreciation. The Forest Guard lieutenant himself did not bat an eye, but she could see his cheeks flush crimson. If it was fury or embarrassment or both, she could not and did not wish to tell.

Tauriel added hesitantly, "I would never doubt Lieutenant Glorendir's ability. I am simply observing that his methods come from a time when the spider infestation in the South was not half as drastic as it is now…"

"And what would you know about that?" Orchalon interrupted her harshly. Alation raised his hand to reach for his comrade's arm, but then he stopped in the middle of the movement and drew it back.

Tauriel made an effort to sound calm and confident when she answered, "Not much, I suppose. Only that I was born in the last settlement that lay beyond the current Southern Demarcation Line. Even around the time of its destruction there were never as many spiders in that area as there are now."

Orchalon grumbled something unintelligible once again, Tuven was playing with his quill and Alation was very busy examining his journal. 'For Eru's sake,' Tauriel thought, 'I've said so many stupid things in front of these people. I'm not going to apologise for being right this one time!' She leaned back in her chair, unwilling to make any more offers of peace.

To break the awkward silence, Alation cleared his throat and said, "Are there any more subjects concerning the Southern Division?"

Tauriel suddenly recalled something she had wanted to bring up at this week's meeting, but now, given the less than ideal situation, she doubted whether it would be wise to ask for her comrades' advice on such a sensitive topic. On the other hand, it really was an urgent issue. So she plucked up her courage and said, "In fact, there is one matter in which I would like to ask your council." Alation raised his eyebrows and gave her a slow nod as an invitation to continue.

"I was wondering how you would proceed in case of a… disciplinary issue." There it was, she had said it. Although she already felt much more at home in her position as a commander, there were still some soldiers who challenged her authority on a regular basis and she had no idea how to resolve that issue. Nevertheless she did not feel comfortable at all admitting that problem to her fellow officers.

Orchalon looked as if he was going to shout, 'I knew she couldn't handle her division!' any moment – and she granted him that little triumph after the earlier humiliation – Tuven only tilted his head curiously and Alation seemed very eager to assume the role of a mentor. "What kind of disciplinary issues?" he asked very patiently and leaned forward on his chair.

Tauriel could have stabbed him for it, but she replied politely, "I introd-…, reinforced a rule that strictly prohibits any type of liquor and hallucinogenic mushrooms or herbs during duty. Now there are some soldiers who are unwilling to obey this rule." She looked at her comrades and could not have been more astonished at their reactions.

Tuven was the first to answer. "You don't allow your soldiers a sip of wine once in a while?"

"What? Of course not!" Tauriel gave back, bewildered.

He started grinning. "Well, here's yet another reason why everybody is scared to end up in the Southern Division. Not only is it close to Dol Guldur and the place is full of creatures that want to eat you, now there is also a morally impeccable lieutenant."

Tauriel frowned. "You mean you allow…"

"Most certainly I do." There was not the slightest hint of embarrassment in his voice.

She turned to Alation, convinced that the conservative Palace Guard lieutenant would offer more helpful advice. To her relief he threw a disapproving glare at Tuven and said, "If they were my soldiers, I would conduct occasional unannounced controls and put anyone who carries a questionable substance on a particularly unpopular watch post for a week."

He seemed very satisfied with his ultimate solution, but Orchalon only snorted and pointed out, "That may work in your cosy palace where you have all your soldiers comfortably gathered at arm's length. In the forest you can't control anything. Besides, what 'particularly unpopular watch posts' should there be?"

Tauriel saw Alation's jaw clench – in the utmost elegance, of course. "Then what is your suggestion?" he asked, slightly piqued.

Orchalon shrugged. "Throw them in the dirt one by one and smash their Eru-forsaken bottles on their heads until they think straight again."

Tauriel gasped unwillingly, which made Tuven address her, "If you decide to try that, please make sure to let me know. I would be very sorry to miss it." Everyone deemed it appropriate to simply ignore his remark.

Tauriel forced her face to smile despite the all but useless advice she had received. "Well, thank you for your opinions. That was all I wanted to know." She looked at Alation, and so did the other two officers.

He took up his quill once again and said, "As far as I can see, this concludes our meeting – given that no one…"

"No!" Tuven interjected quite rudely, but nobody minded.

So the four lieutenants collected their paperwork and left the office one after another. On the way out Tauriel found herself next to Tuven, who bent down to her and asked quietly, "So, are you going to be at the feast tonight?" She nodded as casually as she could. "I'll look out for you," Tuven announced. "I'm curious to see you in a dress. Preferably in a dry one – although…" His glance at certain parts of her wet uniform reflected nothing but the sincerest appreciation.

Tauriel allowed her mouth to smirk for a second, but then she quickly corrected herself by saying, "You wanted me to try out Orchalon's disciplinary method, didn't you? Right now I would love to test it on you."

It took him a second to grasp her meaning, but then the smug grin on his face slowly froze. "Fine, dry dress it is," he relented. Tauriel gave him her most charmingly evil smile and took a mental note never to let Legolas hear him talk to her like that.

Alation shooed Tuven away and said to her, "Don't mind him. In fact, don't mind the two of them." He made a particular fatherly face when he gestured subtly over to Orchalon, who was walking away without a word, and continued under his breath, "Orchalon is not as unfriendly as he pretends, he is just under a lot of emotional strain so shortly after Glorendir found such a dreadful death. They were almost like brothers."

"I understand him," Tauriel affirmed. "It must be hard for all of you to get used to a new comrade in this situation."

"I should say you make a rather pleasant new comrade," he remarked graciously. "If you ever need any more advice, don't hesitate to ask."

"Thank you, I appreciate it," Tauriel replied.

Before he left, Alation pointed his finger at her and added with a worried expression, "Now you should really put on some dry clothes."

'Yes, Ada,' Tauriel gave back in her mind. She obliged him with a nod and a polite smile and hurried off.

* * *

><p>Fortunately for the people at the Woodland Palace, the torrential rain had stopped and did not prevent the feast from taking place outdoors. Tables and benches had been set up in the courtyard and the clutter of voices and music was getting louder and merrier with every glass of Dorwinion that was consumed. Tauriel had watched the king perform the traditional ceremony of bidding the old year goodbye and welcoming the new one, then she had shared a comradely drink with the lieutenants – not failing to accept Tuven's rather straightforward compliment on her dress by giving him a friendly kick in the shin – and finally she had taken the opportunity to spend some time with an old friend she hardly saw anymore.<p>

"So, how are you getting along with the other lieutenants?" Sidhril asked curiously from across the table through a mouthful of pastry. Tauriel assessed her ironically. After sharing the most important news and Forest Guard gossip, Sidhril had immediately started eating at an impressive speed. "Excuse me, I haven't eaten anything all day," she explained, now altering between the three tasks of speaking, chewing and laughing. "I came back from patrol two hours ago."

Tauriel nodded, pretending not to be half as amused as she was, and tried to simplify the situation for her friend by answering her question, "The lieutenants – let's say that each of them is unique in his own way. They have been with the Guard for a long time, so I guess it's normal to get slightly… eccentric." She took a sip of Dorwinion to avoid giving more details. Sidhril had managed to swallow the rest of her pastry and threw a questioning look at her, obviously unwilling to content herself with the amount of information.

Tauriel sighed. "Fine! To be honest, they don't even pretend to take me seriously and I can't blame them. I must look like an impertinent little upstart to them. One of them openly despises me..."

"That must be Orchalon!" Sidhril exclaimed like an elfling who was proud to know the answer to a riddle. Tauriel laughed and nodded. Who, if not her friend, should be familiar with the quirks of the Forest Guard lieutenant?

"If it did not sound far too poetic for that grumpy old bear," Sidhril stated, "I would say that we equally love and fear him in the Forest Guard. Last week he verbally compressed Fiondir to the size of a mushroom. I'm telling you, I almost pitied him, but then again he deserved it because of the way he talks to our new recruit sometimes."

Tauriel frowned and remembered, "Right, the recruit! How is he doing?"

"I'm keeping an eye on him," Sidhril assured her. "He's quite good, except for getting insanely nervous whenever he has to shoot an arrow in Fiondir's presence. I don't underst-…"

"Who knows?" Tauriel interrupted her hectically, "Those young soldiers are sensitive sometimes, it's normal…" She shrugged and took another distracting sip of wine, begging every Vala to take Sidhril's mind off the subject.

"So, what about the other two lieutenants?"

Sidhril's change of topic made Tauriel put down her glass in relief and continue, "Alation treats me like something between a precious crystal vase and his favourite grandchild. It's sweet and disturbing at the same time. And Tuven, well, I can't think of any morally acceptable word to describe him. Still, when he gets past his philanderer moods, he's the only one of the three who occasionally talks to me as an equal."

Sidhril's frown had deepened with every word Tauriel had spoken. She laughed and quickly reassured her astonished friend, "Don't worry, it's not half as bad as it sounds. I think they're decent fellows, I just need to prove to them that I'm worthy of my new position."

"And you will," Sidhril stated confidently. "Give it some time and you'll see. You're doing great so far. The tale of your 'no liquor, no mushrooms, no herbs' campaign has already spread and reached the Forest Guard. Everyone in our unit, including Fiondir, laughed their eartips off when those two frustrated border guards complained about your strictness."

"What?" Tauriel almost dropped the pear she had started to eat. "That's not good, I want them to like me. Maybe I shouldn't…"

"Don't you back down now!" Sidhril interjected firmly, pointing her finger at Tauriel. "It would be the worst thing you could do. If you want to gain their respect, now is the time. A little abstinence during duty won't kill them, after all we have to survive our shifts on water and lembas as well and nobody cares how cold or bored we get out there. Those Border Guard clowns should pull themselves together for once…"

"Sidhril, calm down, I'm getting your point!" Tauriel stopped her wildly gesturing friend before she could get herself more wrought up.

The subtle rivalry between the different Guard divisions was nothing but a funny quarrel that no one took seriously, although it was talked up to a most severe hereditary enmity. To tell the truth, Tauriel was looking forward to changing sides and challenge sharp-tongued Sidhril to a little Forest Guard versus Border Guard debate once in a while.

She grinned at the prospect and did not try to stop her friend this time as she muttered on, "Those Southern Border Guard soldiers have always irritated me, I don't know – maybe it's the constant proximity of Dol Guldur that makes them a little strange…"

"I could be like them in a few decades," Tauriel pointed out, taking another bite of her pear.

Sidhril grimaced and shook her head, but before she could beg her friend not to turn into a 'Border Guard clown', she looked up and signalled Tauriel to turn around. So she did, and what she saw instantly made her tilt her head and frown. Legolas came walking towards them, his face absolutely blank and his footsteps as heavy as those of a Dwarf in full armour. When he had reached their table, he tapped Tauriel on the shoulder as a request to slide over on the bench, sat down next to her, emptied her glass of wine without so much of a word and dropped his head in his hands.

Tauriel and Sidhril exchanged a look of bewilderment. Sidhril opened her mouth to address him, but Tauriel silenced her with a wave of her hand. "Let's not say anything," she whispered pretentiously, making sure Legolas could hear every word. "If we're lucky, maybe he'll spontaneously start communicating with us." She winked at Sidhril, who tried very hard to hold back her chuckle.

'Thank Eru these two are finally getting along again,' Tauriel thought not for the first time. It had taken decades for Legolas and Sidhril to get past the awkward little intermezzo they now referred to as the ancient sword incident and Tauriel had sat through far too many conversations along the lines of 'How could I disregard her feelings and use her in such a despicable manner?' and 'I feel terrible for betraying his trust, I promised him not to tell you anything.' Fortunately those issues had been resolved, much to Tauriel's relief, because both of them had exaggerated a lot and her patience had started to run thin.

Finally a movement went through the slumped accumulation of silken robes and blond hair next to her. "Don't even ask!" Legolas' muffled voice emerged from behind his hands. He came back from his plunge and shook his head very slowly. "The king… Ugh, you know I hold him in very high regard, but sometimes…" He shrugged, rolled his eyes and fell silent again for a moment, earning himself a pitiful glance from Sidhril and a careful yet ironic attempt of solace from Tauriel.

"Shall we talk about it or will another glass of wine do as well?"

"The first one already helped a lot," he answered, allowing a grin to flash over his face. "By the way, sorry for the larceny." He nodded in direction of Tauriel's empty glass.

"Don't worry, there's plenty where that came from," she gave back. "Now will you tell us what happened?"

"Do you really want to know?" Legolas asked hesitantly, looking back and forth between the two of them. Sidhril tried very hard not to show her curiosity, which made Tauriel chuckle once again.

"Go on," she said to Legolas, "take Sidhril out of her misery!" Her friend looked very offended for a moment and grumbled something under her breath, but her frown faded as soon as Legolas began to talk.

"Very well then: Right after the ceremony my father started to set me up with potential partners for the spring dance because it's tradition and he didn't want to do it himself. Within the next hour I was forced to stand up with every noblewoman and every dignitary's wife in this whole palace – believe me, some of them are worse company than those drowned Goblins you fished out of the river last week." He gestured at Sidhril, who grimaced at the memory of that less than agreeable operation.

Tauriel gave him a pitiful yet sarcastic look. "Poor you!" she teased him and was rewarded with a poke in the ribs.

"How did you escape?" Sidhril wanted to know.

Legolas leaned forward, suddenly looking like a common gossip instead of a dignified aristocrat. "A miracle saved me. After repeating the exact same polite small talk to one lady after another, I decided to stand up with someone I could have an actual conversation with for a change. Luckily I came across Lady Nimiel."

Tauriel smiled in surprise. "How nice! She loves dancing but she rarely gets the chance."

"Yes, it was very nice," Legolas continued, "for about two minutes. You will never guess what happened next: My father walked up to us, told me off about not doing some ridiculous detail of that blasted spring dance right and cut in himself. I swear I haven't seen him dance voluntarily since… Anyway, that's when I took the opportunity to make a quick disappearance."

Both Sidhril and Tauriel looked sincerely astonished. "Your father is dancing with my mother?" Tauriel assured herself. "I mean, I know they get along really well for some incomprehensible reason – no offence – but…?"

"You know what," Sidhril interjected, grabbing her half-full glass and getting up, "I want to see this! You two can do without me, can't you?" She threw a meaningful grin at Tauriel, who rolled her eyes at her friend's somewhat obvious but no less sweet excuse to give them some privacy.

When Sidhril had vanished in the crowd, Tauriel and Legolas kept looking at each other in silent astonishment for another good while before the prince said, "You are aware that after all those ladies you won't be spared your share of dancing either, aren't you?"

Tauriel gulped and replied sceptically, "Fine, but I'm not nearly drunk enough yet."

"That can be helped," Legolas gave back, rose from the bench and pulled her up with him. Together they started to work their way through the noisy crowd to get some more wine.

* * *

><p>Nimiel had not felt so many eyes on her since the unfortunate day she had accidentally lit her own hair on fire while brewing her very first bronchial tea. People were blatantly observing her and the king's dance, not even trying to hide their curiosity, and Nimiel was starting to feel uncomfortable. She fixed her eyes stoically upon the embroidery that adorned the king's collar in an attempt to ignore the impudent looks, while also trying not to get distracted from the fairly complicated steps of the spring dance.<p>

"Has no one ever taught those people how rude it is to stare?" she whispered after a while, provoking a nearly unnoticeable shrug from the king.

"You must understand them. As the head of the healing quarters you are a public figure," he gave back without the slightest hint of irony in his voice, therefore it took her a moment to understand that he was joking. She honoured him with a very graceful eye-rolling while thinking to herself, 'If you are in the mood to tease me, let me assure you that I can play this game just as well as you.'

She remarked casually, "My lord, I have to admit I am surprised at you."

"Why is that?" it came back, along with a gentle pull that prevented Nimiel from bumping into another couple behind her. She wanted to turn around and glare at them, but she stopped herself and replied, "Seizing your own son's partner instead of asking a lady yourself? I do not recall when that tactic was included in the court protocol."

"Am I to understand this as a complaint?"

"Not necessarily," Nimiel said and followed the step sequence into a slow circle around the king.

Letting go of his hand made her realise how strange it had felt to hold it; secure and frightening at the same time and certainly imposing enough to leave her in no doubt of who was leading whom. When the administration of the Houses of Healing was concerned, at least he had the decency to disguise his orders as friendly requests. In this dance, however, Nimiel felt politely but mercilessly pushed around without any chance of resistance. This unfamiliar subjection irritated her, but she did not dislike it half as much as she thought she should.

The general chaos on the dance floor forced her to awkwardly squeeze her way through the next two or three movements, until her uncomfortable grimace made the king remark, "This is all but unbearable. It reminds me why I usually do not care much for dancing. Shall we have a seat?"

Nimiel threw a quick glance over her shoulder and agreed, "It is quite crowded. Although…" She did not get the chance to finish her objection because the king had already taken her by the arm and was manoeuvring them out of the tumult and leading her to his table.

When Galion saw them approach, he quickly pulled out a chair for Nimiel, produced a glass seemingly out of nowhere and filled it with lemonade from a carafe on the table, which he knew she liked. She thanked him and took the opportunity to wish him all the best for the new year before he politely retreated to the background again. From there he observed the king's guests at their tables in order to intervene whenever they ran out of drink or required something else. Nimiel counted her blessings for not having to trade places with him and mentioned it to the king.

He acknowledged her concern but objected, "Your compassion honours you, my lady, but whatever he may tell you, old Galion does not exactly drown in work during the rest of the year. He does not fit the common image of a dictator, yet he rules this household like his own little kingdom and can be quite a dictator. It is most fascinating to observe." The king smirked and took a sip from his glass – Nimiel noticed gladly that he was drinking apple cider instead of wine, which was always a sign for him being in a good mood.

"But before I forget," he gestured in direction of the dance floor, "I interrupted your remark by dragging you out of this infernal chaos – a rudeness for which I apologise. So, you were saying?"

Nimiel answered, "Nothing of importance. I was merely pointing out that, despite the unfavourable conditions, leaving the spring dance unfinished is said to bring ill luck."

Thranduil raised an eyebrow and assessed her in astonishment. "Of all people in the world, you were the very last one whom I would have thought capable of such superstition. Since when do you believe in old wives' tales?" He looked almost reproachful while asking the question and Nimiel could not help but be a little amused.

"There is a reason why the dance has been unchanged since the First Age. It symbolises the awakening of spring and we just stopped right in the deepest winter," she explained, not even making an effort to hide the circumstance that she was blatantly teasing him.

The king leaned back in his chair and gave her an exhausted look. "The reason why the dance has never been changed is the fact that there is no better way of torturing generations of elflings. It has been over six thousand years, but I still remember how much I loathed learning it. And so did my son, as far as I recall – well, you just saw the result of his lacking enthusiasm for yourself."

Nimiel shook her head energetically, feeling the genuine urge as well as the moral obligation to defend Legolas. "He did very well, I assure you, and I wish you were a little more indulgent." She glanced at him determinedly, although the sudden memory of a sixty-five year old Tauriel coming home from a dance lesson with a broken toe almost made her agree with his judgement. To distract him from the subject of poor Legolas she quickly added, "However, superstition or not, your notion of tradition is very prosaic, my lord."

One look into the king's face was enough for Nimiel to know that she had just involuntarily offered him a challenge which he was glad to accept. No wonder, she thought, there were not many people who dared question his opinions and over the years it certainly became dull to be right all the time.

Thranduil assessed Nimiel thoroughly for a while before he inquired in an almost patronising tone that made her curse her decorous upbringing, "Do not tell me you also carry apple seeds in your pocket during Mettare and believe that throwing them into a pond within the first hour of Yestare grants a prosperous new year." He frowned at her ironically, only to let his eyes widen in utter disbelief when she did indeed produce a dozen of said traditional lucky charms and placed them on the table without so much of a word. "You cannot be serious." The amusement on his face was paired with an apparent, although pretended, concern for her sanity that gave Nimiel the urge to poison his cider with a laxative.

"All I am saying is that it has worked for me before," she pointed out as solemnly as she could. "It is a pity that I have to content myself with the river, as there is no real pond close to the palace." Suddenly the king's expression changed from a sarcastic frown to a conspiratorial smirk. "Oh, but there is. In fact, I hereby challenge you to prove your theory." He rose from his chair and held out his hand as a request for her to do the same.

Now Nimiel was thoroughly confused. What kind of cider had he been drinking all night? "My lord," she replied very slowly and clearly, as if she was speaking to a patient who had just awoken from a coma, "your palace has no ponds."

The king let out a deep breath and gave back, "My dear Lady Nimiel, do you not believe me capable of knowing my own halls? If I can find bluebells in Greenwood, I may also find a pond. You will not back down from a wager, will you?"

'By Elbereth, what have I done to deserve this?' Nimiel thought to herself and got up with a sigh and a very expressive eye-rolling while deliberately ignoring his hand. "Very well then, lead the way."

When she followed the king through the dark subterranean corridor that led to the lowest level of the palace, Nimiel could not help but ask herself what in Eru's name she was doing. Their leaving had not gone unnoticed and, although concerns of that kind were not like her, she wondered what people might think of it. She had no idea what Thranduil was playing at – obviously he was up to something unexpected because there simply was no pond in the palace where she could drown her stupid apple seeds. She was glad to see him in such an unusually light-hearted mood, but she was not sure if she felt comfortable being immediately affected by it.

They turned left into an even darker passage where Nimiel could vaguely distinguish a wooden door. After a few steps her heart skipped a beat at the sight of a watchman jumping out of the shadows with an impressive spear in his hand.

"Halt! No entr-…" he said firmly, but the king interrupted him impatiently, "Take that spear out of my face and unlock the door." Although Nimiel could not see it in the dark, she was sure that the poor fellow, who was only doing his duty, shrunk to the size of a dwarf at the sound of the king's intimidating voice. She pitied the man for having to stand around alone in the dark while his family and friends were probably enjoying the feast.

"I apologise, my lord," the guard mumbled and fulfilled the order as quickly as he could. They stepped through the door – Nimiel literally felt the soldier's confused look on her as she walked past him and counted her blessings that it was not Tauriel – and entered an ample cave illuminated by a few dim lanterns and filled with warm, humid air. It took her a moment to recognise the place, but then she remembered having been there once or twice before.

"This qualifies as a pond, does it not?" Thranduil asked and nodded in direction of a bubbling water basin.

Nimiel crossed her arms and gave him a disbelieving look. "I am not throwing apple seeds into your hot spring." Despite her effort she could not refrain from laughing.

The king held out his palm. "Then I will try my luck if you will kindly oblige me."

Astonished, she gave him some seeds and said, "I thought you did not believe in superstition? Besides, what wish could a modest apple seed grant the King of the Woodland Realm?"

He stepped to the edge of the pool and answered, "Probably none, but it cannot do any harm, can it?"

He dropped the apple seeds one after another, watching as they vanished in the bubbling water. After that he fell silent for a long time, absorbed in his own thoughts, and Nimiel did not want to disturb his contemplation.

Finally he said without turning around to face her, "My cousins and I used to do this as children. We made ridiculous wishes and told ourselves that it was due to the apple seeds whenever one of them came true by chance. Once I wished for us to stay together for all eternity. Now I am the only one left to wander this earth."

He stood immobile like a statue, staring into the water. Nimiel felt a lump in her throat as she was reminded of the fate both of them shared: to be the ones who had lasted while their loved ones had journeyed to faraway shores or to another world. She could not say anything to comfort him and she knew there was no need to. It was a fate they had accepted long ago and although there had always been a choice, they had decided to stay.

Eventually Nimiel said, "The trees are beginning to blossom once again and two days ago one of my fellow healers had a child, a healthy little girl." She walked up to the king and looked at him. "This world is full of beauty and it is worth for us to stay, my lord, even though in the past it has done its best to convince us otherwise."

She took the rest of the apple seeds out of her pocket and threw them into the water one by one. The king waited quietly until the last one had drowned in the dark water, then he held out his hand and asked with a nearly invisible smile, "Would you like to finish the spring dance? There is plenty of room here." Nimiel glanced at him in astonishment, but she accepted the offer and followed him to the middle of the cave.

At first it was odd to dance without music, but soon the soothing sound of the water and the echo of their own light footsteps on the stone floor proved to be a perfect substitute. They continued the spring dance where they had interrupted it before and when they were done, they started all over again. Nimiel did not even mind being led this time. After the last movement they stayed immobile for a while, hand in hand, knowing that a third dance would definitely exceed the boundaries of decency but unwilling to end this strangely enchanting moment.

"I had almost forgotten your eyes were the colour of chestnuts," the king suddenly said and the unveiled surprise in his voice made Nimiel chuckle.

"And I had almost forgotten the way your cheek twitches when you smile – you should remind me more often," she replied.

He immediately fulfilled her request, willingly or not, and added, "Then maybe you should dance with me more often."

He let go of her hand and brushed a strand of hair out of her face that had gone damp in the humid air of the cave. The little warm touch made a thousand thoughts race through Nimiel's mind. All of a sudden she felt a burning hot sting right in the middle of her heart. Arasdaer. He was not even gone three hundred years. What would he think if he could see her like this? Had she not promised to love him for eternity, even beyond the borders of this world? And so she did. Not a day went by that she did not think of him, although the grief had slowly turned into loving memory over the years. Yet suddenly she was behaving like a silly young girl, not like the widow and mother that she was. What in Eru's name had gotten into her?

She turned her head and looked to the ground. "That may not be a good idea," she whispered, "it reminds me too much of Arasdaer. He was so fond of dancing."

The king pulled back his hand and his posture went rigid. Nimiel looked up at him and for a second she saw her own feelings mirrored on his face, only a thousand times darker. "So was Merilissel," he said quietly.

After a moment of silence that seemed to last a century, Nimiel forced her face to an awkward smile. "We should return to the courtyard, my lord."

The king nodded and cleared his throat. "Yes, we should. After you, my lady."

* * *

><p>"Your cheeks are as red as if you had chased a Warg to Esgaroth on foot," Legolas remarked and gently but decidedly he took the glass out of Tauriel's hand. "I bet Galion brought out all the leftovers of the year to make room in the wine cellar." He sniffed the pink liquid and shook his head. "Eru, that's strong! My head already feels like a humming top." He set the glass on an empty table and leaned against it. They had found a more or less quiet spot near the entrance of the guard's quarters where no one minded the misusage of the table.<p>

Tauriel chuckled and noticed that her voice sounded slightly more high-pitched than usually, so she thought it wiser to be quiet. It was true, the wine had tasted somewhat extraordinary, but the sight of a half-drunk Legolas made up for the spin in her head. "Your Highness, mind your countenance!" she advised him with the sternest expression her face could produce. What came back was an unexpected and therefore very effective push that almost made her lose her balance in the less than vigilant state she was in. "What was that about?" she complained playfully, laughing at his effort to straighten up and look serious. "I request a little more professionalism, Your Highn-…"

She did not get the chance to finish her sentence because Legolas grabbed her around the waist and pulled her towards him faster than she could react. "Sorry, no professionalism available tonight," he whispered and made an attempt to kiss her. In the first moment Tauriel did not mind, but then the realisation that there were hundreds of people in the courtyard exploded in her dizzy mind like a thousand bright fireworks and abruptly cleared her thoughts. She pulled away and took a step backwards, glancing around nervously. As far as she could see, no one was looking their way.

"Are you out of your mind?" she hissed under her breath and glared at him. "A little discretion, maybe…?"

Legolas sighed, scratching his head and looking confused. "To be honest, I'm tired of discretion," he gave back, but he kept the distance that Tauriel had just put between them.

She assessed him sceptically. Clearly it was the wine that made him speak like that, yet she sensed that it had merely provided the last gentle push to make him say something that had already been on his mind for a while. She came back towards him and said, "I know. So am I, but…"

"But what? Don't you think we have reached a point where we could consider stopping this tiresome charade? You said yourself that it was an open secret anyway." His look was challenging and reassuring at once.

"I don't mind an open secret as long as it's silently tolerated," Tauriel pointed out, wondering how easy it was to lie to herself when she had consumed enough wine. "What choice do we have? We cannot possibly make our relationship official." This time she tried particularly hard to keep her voice down because three people just came out of the guard's quarters and eyed them curiously.

Legolas let them pass, then he asked, "And whyever not?"

Tauriel let out a deep breath. "Because we both know what 'making a relationship official' usually leads to, and that is obviously out of the question in our case." She crossed her arms defensively, forcing herself to fight back the all too familiar feeling of inferiority that accompanied any contemplation about her and Legolas' future.

The prince took a moment to answer in which he seemed to ponder a thought. "Is it out of the question?" he finally gave back, looking straight into her eyes and making her want to burst into flames.

Tauriel begged all the Valar and Maiar and the Great Ilúvatar himself to give her enough strength to stay still and keep breathing steadily instead of running away and hiding in the deepest, darkest hole of Moria. They had never spoken about this subject before, although it was, of course, not the strangest of notions after being a couple for more than a century. However, when two Eldar decided to make their mutual affection known, they were as good as betrothed. It was a logical consequence and nothing else was acceptable. There was a certain grey area of decency where society graciously turned a blind eye to couples who had not yet decided to go public, but prolonging and exploiting that period for as many years as Tauriel and Legolas had was extraordinary even by Elven standards.

Tauriel swallowed the lump in her throat and replied hesitantly, "Is this supposed to be some sort of… proposal?" She felt her hand clasp the edge of the table, only to have something to hold on to. Speaking the word alone made every fibre in her body twitch.

Legolas tilted his head and suddenly, much to Tauriel's bewilderment, he started laughing. "Judging by the terrified look on your face – which would be quite hurtful if I didn't know you as well as I do – I'm going to say no." He arched an eyebrow and added a little reproachfully, "Besides, seriously, do you think me capable of doing it like this? No, this is merely a request to know what we're dealing with, where we're going." After a pause he added, "We are going somewhere, aren't we?"

Tauriel took a deep breath and literally felt her bodily functions start working again. After staring at him for half an eternity, she figured that it was probably time for a reaction, so she finally muttered, "I don't know." It was the only honest answer she could provide, but when she saw Legolas' face almost fall apart, she realised that her clumsy reply must have sounded like a blatant refusal. She tried to explain, "I mean, of course I want to 'go somewhere' with you, but I can't see how it would work. A Sinda prince cannot pledge himself to a Silvan soldier, childhood friends or not. How do you imagine breaking this to your father? He would never allow his only son to enter into such a mésalliance."

Legolas' relief was apparent. Despite all the anxiety a tiny smile flashed over Tauriel's face at the sight of it. "My father can give his consent or refuse it if he so chooses, but he can't actually forbid it," Legolas pointed out, but he did not manage to sound fully convinced.

Tauriel shook her head and put her hand on his arm. "You wouldn't go against his will. I know how much his approval means to you – and that's a good thing, that's how it should be in a family. I definitely don't want to be the reason for a breach between you and your father."

"And you won't!" he gave back. "He may be stubborn, but he's not a bad person. Eventually he'll understand. Don't be so pessimistic, it's not like you."

Tauriel had to admit the truth in that, yet she had better reasons than him to be worried. "It's easy for you to talk, you're not risking anything. You're his son, what is he going to do to you besides being angry for a while? I, on the other hand, am risking my position with the Guard. He'll probably deploy me to some desolate outpost where I'll be left to rot until you forget me…"

Legolas rolled his eyes and interrupted her more impatiently than necessary, "Do you even hear yourself talking?"

The combination of wine, anxiety and exhaustion had pushed Tauriel to a point where even this little remark was enough to annoy her. She gave him a piercing glare and hissed, "Well, unlike yours, the outcome of my future depends on my own success or failure and I will not willingly risk my rank." Even while speaking she wished she could hold back the words, but it was too late.

Legolas' face froze and stayed completely vacant for an excruciatingly long while. Tauriel looked around and wondered how far away she was from the merry feast that was in full progress only a few feet from her. She glanced at Legolas and felt her cheeks flush crimson.

Finally, after making a more than visible effort to regain his composure, he stated dryly, "I'm glad we're discussing our priorities so openly."

His words hit Tauriel like a morgul blade. She knew she deserved them and suddenly she wanted to say a thousand things to explain herself and to assure him that this was not about priorities but about a dilemma that she simply was not ready to resolve yet. She could not say any of it, the words refused to make sense in her mind. So she only shook her head and mumbled, "Can we please talk about this when we're both sober?"

She guessed that she looked like a picture of misery in that moment because Legolas' expression softened and a glimpse of a smirk appeared in the corner of his mouth. "When we're sober, you'll find a hundred excuses to avoid the subject," he pointed out as accurately as always.

Tauriel shrugged; she did not feel able to argue. "You're right. And do you want to know why? Because I have no answer! I don't know what to do. I'm just as sick and tired of hiding as you are, but I don't want to lose everything I have worked for during the last a hundred and fifty years. Does that sound so absurd?"

He pondered the question for a minute, then he shook his head, suddenly not looking hostile at all anymore. "It doesn't, actually your concern is perfectly understandable." He took her hand and a bittersweet smile flashed over his face. "I bet there's a huge water damage on the wall in the Halls of Mandos where the tapestry with our story is supposed to hang and Vaire needs to weave in a few more obstacles to make it big enough to cover everything up."

Tauriel could not help but laugh at that image. "I'm sure that's the exact reason," she replied and after a while she added, "Maybe you can do a little careful probing with your father…"

Legolas nodded. "Yes, maybe – or maybe I won't. After all, things are not so bad the way they are now. And if he decides to confront me about it someday or another, at least now I will be prepared."

Tauriel smiled at him, still worried but once again struck by the realisation that any adversity the world could possibly throw at them was only half as frightening as long as they were together. She had already felt that way as a little elfling, whenever a parent or teacher had caught the two of them in a mischievous act, and since then no spider, no Goblin and no intimidating king had been able to change it.

"Do you want to go back?" she asked and nodded in direction of the feast.

"I'm not really in the mood," he answered.

Tauriel sighed. "That makes two of us. Shall we go for a walk instead?"

"And find this year's first spider?"

"Possibly, although I would prefer no encounters at all. For the sake of… you know, discretion." She grinned and rolled her eyes. Legolas let out a chuckle, shook his head and followed her towards the main gate.


	15. Ashen Sage and Rosemary

Four travellers stood huddled in the middle of the road, back to back, clasping their belongings and still trembling with shock, although the spiders had been dead for half an hour. After the Border Guard unit had eliminated the beasts, the corporal had sent out two of his soldiers to fetch the lieutenant. When he finally saw her approach, he saluted and showed her the unusual discovery his unit had made.

First of all Tauriel assured herself that no soldier was missing or injured, then she took a closer look at the unexpected visitors. She tilted her head at the strange sight of four terrified Edain and their wooden handcarts in the middle of a dozen dead spider bodies. The Men looked exhausted, slightly dirty and utterly helpless. Tauriel had not seen many mortals until then, but those she had encountered had looked more or less the same as the ones now in front of her.

She ordered two soldiers to drag the black carcasses off the road and pile them in the shadows beneath the trees, where they would soon be found and eaten by Eru knew what other foul creature. After that she turned back to the four Men who looked as if they had never heard a word about the dangers of Greenwood and the attack had hit them by complete surprise. She signalled the guard who was still pointing an arrow at them to lower his bow and noticed a sigh of relief going through the group.

"What business do you have in the Woodland Realm?" she inquired firmly, hoping that her rusty bits of Common Tongue would convey enough authority. Fortunately one glance into their frightened faces convinced her that she could just as well have recited a nursery rhyme and still gained their utmost respect. She could see the corporal's mouth twitch in a nearly invisible smirk.

One of the Men, apparently the leader of the party, judging by his age and attire, answered in a shaking voice and an accent so thick she had to process his words twice before she understood them, "We are merchants from Laketown and wish to pass through Mirkwood on our way to Rohan."

Tauriel raised an eyebrow. Mirkwood. She hated it when her homeland was called that insulting name, especially by folks other than Eldar. She glanced at the corporal, who did not seem less displeased, but both refrained from lecturing the Men because there were more urgent issues to be dealt with.

"From Esgaroth?" Tauriel repeated. "Then you should be familiar with the dangers of Greenwood the Great, should you not?" The men did not answer, but it was obvious that Tauriel's words made them even more uncomfortable. "And yet you travel unprotected and without proper weapons," she continued, assessing each one of them warily. One could not be careful enough in these parts of the forest! "Do you even have a leave to cross our borders?" she wanted to know.

The Adan who had spoken now nodded. "We travel under the general mercantile leave granted by the Elvenking." He fiddled around in the pocket of his jerkin and produced a tattered envelope that bore the king's seal.

Tauriel took it from him and checked its validity, then she asked, "What goods are you carrying?"

"F-furs," was the stuttered answer, "and leather." On Tauriel's signal the corporal and another guard lifted the heavy covers off the handcarts. They did indeed contain nothing but the indicated merchandise and some food.

Tauriel handed the envelope back to the old Man with a short nod. "Very well. You seem to be extraordinarily optimistic, or simply foolish, to wander these paths. You may continue if you wish so, but the Woodland Guard will not take responsibility for your safety. Those spiders," she pointed in direction of the cadavers, "will not be your last unpleasant encounter, nor the worst. I advise you to leave the forest and travel around it instead."

One of the younger Men gulped heavily, leaned over to his leader and whispered, "That's exactly what the master said. We should listen to the Elf!"

"Nonsense!" it came back from a third Adan. "Going around would take us three times as long. Besides, you should never take council from Elves." Tauriel and the corporal shared a sarcastic eye-rolling but kept their mouths shut.

"I prefer losing time to losing my life!" the fourth Man now interjected. "I have a wife and children at home!"

Tauriel watched quietly as a heated argument flared up among the travellers. She could not help but wonder at their exaggerated way of gesturing, the irritating ups and downs of their voices and their general emotionality. No Elda would ever get carried away in such an embarrassing manner during a simple discussion. Tauriel herself had often been considered a rather hot-headed elleth, but what she was witnessing now exceeded every standard she had ever been measured by.

She exchanged another look with the corporal who got her hint and planted himself in front of the quarrelling Lakemen. Tauriel noticed with surprise that he was more than a hand's breadth taller than the tallest of them – until then she had not seen how short they were without the direct comparison. Edain, what a strange race! They did not fail to astonish her every single time she saw them.

"Enough already!" the corporal interrupted the quarrel. "We do not have all night. What is your decision?" His imposing tone, or maybe it was rather the sight of his bow and blades, did not miss its aim; they immediately fell silent. Tauriel threw a questioning look at the leader and mentally crossed her fingers for them to make the right choice. If it were not for the stupid leave, she would not have hesitated a minute to simply force them out of the forest. If they stayed, they would most certainly meet a more than unpleasant ending soon enough and Tauriel did not fancy having to explain that to the captain, or worse, the king.

Finally the oldest Lakeman grumbled something unintelligible into his scruffy beard before he addressed her, "We will take your advice and leave the forest." His companions nodded in agreement.

Tauriel ordered the guards to return to their watch posts and informed the corporal that she herself was going to accompany the travellers to the border. He was not too thrilled by the notion of his lieutenant venturing into the forest all alone. He remembered too well what had happened to her predecessor due to a very similar idea and he voiced his concern as politely as he could.

"Will you at least take one or two soldiers with you?" he asked carefully.

Tauriel gave him a reassuring smile. "I'd rather go by myself. After setting the travellers on the right path, I intend to take care of another matter. A personal one," she explained. His face reflected his confusion.

Tauriel slightly shifted her upper body so that the Lakemen could not see what she produced from her belt bag. They would probably not know what it meant anyway, but she did not feel like sharing it with them. She opened her hand and showed the corporal a tiny bunch of dried rosemary and sage.

Understanding flashed over his face, as well as a look of compassion. "I see," he said quietly. "We will stay close, just in case."

* * *

><p>Amril watched attentively as the young healer wrapped the white linen bandage firmly around the broken wrist of this evening's last patient. She did well, as he observed with satisfaction, and she would soon be ready to perform simple tasks like this one without supervision. Amril had set the bones and applied the soothing ointment, but although it would have saved him a lot of time to do the bandaging himself as well, he had given the girl the opportunity to practise her skills once more.<p>

He glanced nervously at the hourglass on the shelf right next to him. The white sand was running a little too fast for his liking. He had an appointment that he did not wish to be late for.

"Very good," he praised the young healer's work when she was finally done, "this looks excellent." He was not exaggerating, that bandage would endure a journey to the Halls of Mandos and back if it was not going to be taken off after a week for a routine control… Amril stopped and wondered at the metaphor his mind had just created by accident. Well, his upcoming appointment was definitely distracting him. He forced himself to concentrate for one more moment.

"We thank you for your trust and wish you a quick recovery," he addressed the patient who thanked the healers in return and rose carefully. Amril accompanied him to the door and reminded him to come back the following week, then he bid him goodbye and turned back to his apprentice.

"You did very well today and I could tell the patients felt the same way. Next time someone comes in with a broken bone, I will let you try and reset it." He collected the utensils from the treatment table and put half of them back into their containers on the shelf while the young elleth, failing to hide her pride about her mentor's praise, put the rest of them into a basket by the door that a nurse would soon take away for cleaning.

Amril threw another look at the hourglass. "I'm sorry to leave in such a hurry," he apologised to his protégé, "but I have an urgent appointment tonight. If you have any more questions about today's treatments, please remember them until tomorrow."

"Of course," she replied with a shy smile. "Thank you and have a pleasant even-… Oh, I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking." She stopped and bit her lip, her cheeks turning red at the realisation of the inappropriate wish she had just offered him.

Amril, who was already at the door, turned around and took one more moment to reassure her. "There is no need to apologise. It will not be a very grievous encounter." He gave her an encouraging nod and left the room.

When he reached the exit of the healing quarters, his mother was already waiting for him in the last rays of sunlight. She smiled at him warmly and he was relieved to see her this calm and collected. She handed him one of the two little bunches of rosemary and sage she was holding, along with a burning candle in a glass. "Shall we go?" she asked. He nodded and offered her his arm.

* * *

><p>'Eru help me, he's going to murder me and make it look like a tragic accident,' Legolas thought while he was rushing along the corridor that led to the king's quarters, struggling to undo the straps of his armour as he walked. He had planned on returning to the palace an hour earlier than he had actually managed, due to an unexpected incident in the forest involving two missing soldiers, who, by the way, also happened to be his friends. They had eventually been recovered safe and sound and Legolas' relief was beyond words, but now he was late and bound to face his father's disappointment – which was nothing compared to his own.<p>

There was one evening in the course of the year when he was supposed to be back on time, only one. Throughout the whole year no one, not even his father, cared when or if he returned at night. But of course it had to be this one specific occasion that saw him hurrying, almost running through the palace and still not making it on time.

He did not stop in his own chambers to get rid of the armour and freshen up after his patrol. When he reached the king's quarters, he took a deep breath, braced himself to receive his father's well-deserved anger and knocked on the door. Galion came to open it and threw a pitiful look at the prince. Apparently his exhaustion and distress were plain to see. The butler let him enter the antechamber and discreetly handed him a dried bunch of sage and rosemary, which Legolas accepted with a grateful yet troubled smile.

"How is he?" the prince asked in a hushed voice and nodded in direction of the king's private chambers. "What am I throwing myself into?"

Galion tilted his head and showed a doubtful yet caring expression. "He is not too pleased, as you may expect, but he has been busy as well, so the waiting may not have inconvenienced him entirely." He took the prince's armour, which Legolas had finally managed to unstrap, and signalled him to wipe a last mud stain off his chin before facing the king. Legolas nodded his thanks once again, then he stepped into the lion's den.

"My lord – Adar," he greeted the king who was standing by the fireplace with his back turned to him. He spun around and looked at his son in silence, obviously waiting for an explanation, which Legolas hurried to provide. "I apologise for my lateness. I was kept in the forest by an emergency. Two soldiers went missing…"

"And the Guard was unable to deal with the matter on its own?" The king's voice cut through Legolas' apology like a newly forged blade.

"I am sorry, Adar," was all he managed to say after that, nervously shifting from one foot to the other. Thranduil did not grace his son's amends with one more moment of his attention, but Legolas sensed that his own disappointment at himself had not gone unnoticed and was deemed to be enough punishment.

"Are you ready to leave?" the king simply asked while he lit a candle from the embers in the fireplace and set it into a glass lantern. Legolas took the bunch of sage and rosemary out of his pocket, thanking every Ainu for the existence of Galion, and nodded. "Then let us not waste any more time," Thranduil said and walked towards the door.

* * *

><p>The stone cairn above the grave was covered with moss and tiny white flowers. The branches of the surrounding willow trees were gently swaying in the wind and the river murmured an eternal quiet lament. It was a peaceful place that Legolas visited from time to time when he was looking for solitude. However, every year during nightfall on the Day of Mandos he went there together with his father to honour the memory of Lady Merilissel, Queen of the Woodland Realm.<p>

It was said that during the hour of twilight on this particular day Mandos allowed the souls of the Eldar who had left this world behind to look back at those who still dwelt among the living. No one knew if it was true, but it was customary for the people of the Woodland Realm to visit the graves of their loved ones, burn a bunch of dried sage and rosemary and remember those who had passed to the next world.

Legolas looked up at the delicate statue of smooth grey marble that guarded the grave. It bore the features of his mother and it was the only image of her that was not hidden away in a storage room somewhere in the remote parts of the palace. His father could not bear to look at her every day, as the prince well knew. He lifted his right hand above his heart and bowed his head as a respectful greeting to Mandos as well as the deceased. So did Thranduil before he set his lantern on the ground.

Both of them stayed silent for a while, listening to the sound of the water and the wind. Merilissel had loved the river because it had reminded her of her home by the seaside, far away in the West. Legolas remembered the wondrous stories about the ocean, about majestic ships, brave sailors and strange underwater creatures that she had told him as a little elfling. He had never understood her longing for the water back then, but now he could imagine how much she had missed the sea, the wind and the sun during all the years that she had spent beneath the trees of Greenwood. Nevertheless he remembered her as a happy woman, radiant with life and full of love for her family and the people of the Woodland Realm whom she had adopted as her own.

He often thought about her but she had been gone for so long and he had been so young that he did not actually miss her. She was a part of him and would always be in his heart but the memories did not hurt anymore. A quiet smile spread over Legolas' face and he looked over to his father.

The king's gaze was fixed upon the stone cairn but he did not see anything that was visible to his son's eyes. He did not want to look at the beautifully crafted statue because even after all these years it was still painful to see her face. Merilissel – she had been the sunshine to his days and the starlight to his nights. Her wisdom, strength and serenity had helped him be a good king and a good man.

Since she was gone his world had descended into darkness. He had never been the most cheerful sort of person, but losing her had turned him into a man he barely recognised and even hated from time to time. He had gotten used to being without her and over the years his grief had changed from an all-consuming fire into a consistent but bearable pain. For decades that pain had been the only thing to remind him that he was still alive and that he needed to stay that way another good while, for his people, for his realm and of course for his son.

He glanced at Legolas who was contemplating the statue in silence. Finally he also lifted his eyes up to the image and felt the pain rise in his chest as he contemplated the delicately carved stone face that was almost too much like the original for his taste. He saw it every day, reflected in the features of his son, the child they had postponed to have for centuries, only to let him grow up without a mother in the end.

Thranduil knew all too well that he was not the father he had always wanted to be. When Legolas had been an elfling, he had not dedicated half as much time to him as he should have. He felt guilty for it because Legolas was the one thing in the world that he loved with every fibre of his being, even though he did not show it to him often enough.

He had grown up so quickly – and so much – that it almost scared Thranduil. Where was the cheeky elfling who had haunted the palace with his mischief and filled the dark corridors with his laughter? Legolas had become a warrior and a ruler, serious and dutiful like his father and grandfather, but deep inside he also possessed his mother's playfulness and kind heart which he hardly ever showed to Thranduil anymore. He should have encouraged that side of his son's personality a lot more than he had.

Their eyes met for a moment and Thranduil managed a weak smile that Legolas returned with much more warmth than his father felt he deserved. He took his bunch of sage and rosemary out of his pocket and threw a questioning look at Legolas. On his nod of agreement he picked up the candle and lit the dried herbs on fire before he held out the candle for Legolas to do the same. The dead leaves were consumed by the flames and released a sweet-smelling cloud of smoke into the mild evening air. Thranduil was not even sure why it was tradition to burn these herbs on the Day of Mandos, but he assumed that their scent should tell the souls of the departed that someone was thinking of them. They placed the burning herbs onto the cairn where the flames slowly faded and left two tiny piles of ash.

In a nearby tree a nightingale started to sing. If Thranduil had believed in miracles, he might have taken it as a sign that Merilissel was with them. Legolas smiled and after a while he remarked without premonition, "She could not sing half as well as the bird she was named after."

Thranduil needed a moment to follow his son's train of thought, but then he grasped it and could not help but chuckle a little. "True, her parents certainly meant well in naming her after the nightingale, but I found an excuse to leave the room every night when she used to sing you to sleep. I was quite relieved when we switched to bedtime stories."

Legolas grinned. "She always told you off for reading all those horrible stories about bloody battles to me."

"You remember that?" the king asked in surprise and, desperately clinging on to these happy memories instead of letting the sad ones overwhelm him, he added, "Well, she told me off about a lot of things. For example, when I took you hunting for the first time and you fell off the horse…"

"To be fair, you did drop me," Legolas interjected. "But granted, I was like a swarm of confused sparrows as a child, I certainly gave her enough headaches."

Thranduil took a step towards Legolas and put his hand on his shoulder. The prince's posture stiffened for a moment but then he relaxed. "Words cannot express how proud she would be of you," Thranduil said softly.

"And of you," Legolas gave back after a while.

* * *

><p>When the two little bunches of sage and rosemary had turned into ash on the stones of his father's grave, Amril looked over to his mother. She was still holding the candle in her hands and had a sad smile on her face. A single tear made its way down her cheek and lingered in the corner of her mouth for a moment before she wiped it away and took a deep breath. "So, what would you like to hear this year?" she asked a little too cheerfully for Amril to believe her.<p>

He scratched his head and glanced up into the thick foliage of the oak tree that towered over the grave. As many leaves as he could see up there, as many stories about his father he had already heard. Every year on the Day of Mandos his mother told him one more. It was a tradition they had established as soon as Amril had been old enough to understand that there had once been another member of his family who was not with them anymore. He had only been two years old when his father had died, so all he had left were one or two blurry memories, or maybe they were just images of his mother's stories that he believed to remember himself.

As a child he had felt bad for not having a father while all his friends had one. There had been no one to take him out into the forest to hunt rabbits, no one to teach him how to shoot, no one to play any rough boys' games with him that would have given his mother palpitations if she had ever found out. Of course Nimiel had done her best to make up for the situation and Amril could rightly state that his childhood had been very happy. He had spent lots of time at the Houses of Healing and the other healers had adopted him in a way, so there had been more than enough substitute father figures in his life. However, his mother had made sure he never lost his connection with his own father and Amril was grateful for it.

"I don't know," he answered cluelessly, "Is there even anything left that you haven't told me yet?"

"There are hundreds of things left," she gave back and sat down on the leaf-covered ground.

Amril joined her, still thinking intensely, but then an idea crossed his mind, "You never told me how you actually met him."

Nimiel looked surprised. "Did I not? Well, then this will be our story for tonight," she decided. She set the candle on the ground and contemplated the flickering light for a moment, then she began to speak.

"When the forest started to grow dark, our people left the old capital at Amon Lanc and moved to the caves, as you know. They were crude and inhospitable and it took decades to make them habitable, not to mention turn them into the beautiful palace they harbour now. We had set up the Houses of Healing provisionally and during many years we shared our workplace with lots of craftsmen who were still making necessary improvements to every part of the new capital.

Every morning I walked past a building site where carpenters were fitting the most beautifully crafted wooden shelves and cabinets into those parts of the healing quarters that now serve as our storage rooms. I always stopped to admire the progress and exchanged a few friendly words with the carpenters. They were pleasant fellows, as far as I remember, but there was one among them who never said a single word to me and pretended to be terribly busy whenever he saw me approach.

Then one day, while I was just finishing my ward round, I heard an infernal rumbling and shouting and when I arrived at the building site a part of the shelf system had collapsed and buried one of the apprentice carpenters under itself. He was not too gravely injured, in fact he had suffered no more than a few scratches and a dislocated shoulder. But of course everyone was in uproar, mostly so his older brother, who happened to be the one who had refused to acknowledge my presence until then.

After we had fixed the boy's shoulder, we kept him in our care for a few more days. During that time his brother visited him as often as he could, much to the boy's annoyance, and, believe it or not, suddenly he also started to speak to me. He asked me all sorts of silly questions about his brother's condition and found a new excuse to engage me in a conversation every day. To be honest, he did not need to make much of an effort to win me over. When his brother had eventually been released, he even sought medical help for himself – to bandage the most ridiculously harmless cut on his hand. That was when I told him that he could just as well ask me to meet him after work. I really did not want to risk any more health damage for the sake of romance. Well, he fulfilled my request that same evening and, to cut this story short, two years later we were wed."

She glanced into the flame of the candle once more and allowed her memories of Arasdaer to carry her away for a moment. His laughter, his mischievous smile, his kindness, his down-to-earth character and his love for crafting beautiful things just for the sake of creating them – she missed all of that. At first she had struggled to accept her fate, but eventually she had understood that there was no use in cursing the Valar for their judgements. So she made the best of the time she had been given, cherishing the happy memories and taking strength from them, as she knew Arasdaer would have wanted her to. She had so much to be grateful for – first and foremost her children, but also lots of wonderful friends and of course her lifework, the Houses of Healing. So yes, she was content and did not hold any more grudges against the past.

Amril chuckled and woke her from her thoughts by observing, "Not the worst love story I've ever heard. Using his brother's injury as an excuse to get closer to an elleth – truth be told, he has my utmost respect for that."

Now Nimiel started giggling as well and added, "Apparently his companions had already started to make fun of his shyness. He later admitted to me that under different circumstances he would never have addressed a Sinda, let alone the head healer, in such a manner. So, in a way, ion nín, you owe your life to a poorly attached shelf."

Amril gave her an ironic frown. By now he could tell that her serenity was not an act anymore and it made him glad to see her reconciled with the bitter fate she had to bear. He could not imagine what he would do if his wife was taken from him. He lost himself in that terrifying idea for a moment, but then he noticed that his mother was assessing him worriedly.

"What is it?" she asked and put her hand lightly on his arm.

He shook his head and gave back, "Nothing, just a gloomy thought." He smiled at her, but he knew that it would not convince her, so he added, "I wonder how life can go on if you lose the one you have pledged your heart and soul to."

Nimiel looked to the ground and said quietly, "It has to go on. Even though we have to bid a loved one farewell, a part of them remains with us forever. Love does not simply end with death."

Amril nodded slowly. "So you would agree with those who say that it is reprehensible if someone falls in love again after losing their spouse – hypothetically?" He had merely asked the question out of meaningless curiosity, so he was more than bewildered when his mother gave him a look of utter shock.

"What?" she snapped in a tone of voice that was completely atypical for her, only to regain her composure a second later. "I mean… I do not know. It is not my place to judge the deeds and feelings of others."

Amril apologised for his tactless question. Undoubtedly he had hurt his mother's sense of dignity by thoughtlessly speaking about such an unseemly subject to her – at the grave of his father! What had he been thinking? He advised himself to ponder his words more carefully from now on.

* * *

><p>The coppice was thick and thorny and Tauriel had to stop at every five steps to untangle herself from a root or an ivy twine. She had not yet decided which one she preferred, creeping through this mess of trees and bushes in the dark or walking along the path in the company of four quarrelling, smelly Lakemen, as she had done before. She had accompanied them to the border and shown them the shortest and safest way out of the forest; what happened to them now was none of her business and she was glad about it.<p>

She stopped for a moment and looked around. Truth be told, she had no idea where exactly she was, but she was sure that the Southern Demarcation Line already lay behind her. Strictly speaking, leaving the borders of the realm during duty was not allowed, but Tauriel figured that she could make an exception once a year. The corporal would not tell on her and as long as she did not run into a hungry spider swarm she would be back before anyone missed her.

After a few more minutes she noticed that her tiresome journey had come to a successful ending: The weathered and ivy-covered ruins of several small buildings and the lack of tall trees where there had once been a tiny village square told her that she had found the remains of her childhood home.

It was strange to come back every year and observe its steady decay. She remembered what her life had been like in this modest settlement. More than three centuries had passed since then and still the sight of the ruins made so many images appear in Tauriel's mind that she had to fight them back in order to not get carried away. She could not risk losing her vigilance, alone in a place like this.

She paid homage to Mandos by raising her hand to her heart and bowing her head before she worked her way to the rests of the second hut on the left. Three walls were still distinguishable beneath the numerous layers of vegetation that had reconquered the settlement. Tauriel crouched down by what she remembered to be the doorstep. She freed it from the ivy twines that had grown back since she had done the same a year before. Out of her belt bag she took a flint and the bunch of dried sage and rosemary. She placed it carefully on the doorstep, then she drew a small and rather pitted knife out of her boot and smashed the flint against the blade until a spark fell on the dried herbs and lit them on fire.

Tauriel breathed in the scent of the burning leaves and looked around once more. Granted, what she was doing there was not exactly the right way of marking the Day of Mandos, but there were no graves for her to visit. The bodies of her relatives had never been recovered – one could say anything about the giant spiders of Greenwood but they could not be blamed of wastefulness.

When the herbs had turned to ash, Tauriel took another deep breath and started to whisper into the dark. "Good evening, Ada and Nana, Grandfather, Grandmother, Uncle… It's me again. Not much of a surprise, I know. How are you holding up in the Halls of Mandos?

For me nothing has changed since the last time we spoke. I'm still with the Border Guard, still in possession of all my limbs and still trying to keep the forest clean as best I can. I know you probably won't care too much anymore, but we're holding the spiders in bay quite well at the moment. Nevertheless they keep multiplying, as well as the Orcs and Wargs and all the other filth that creeps out of Dol Guldur. Yes, Nana, I brought my weapons, don't worry.

So much for my work. Admit it, Ada, you are a tiny bit proud of me, aren't you? I mean, even after you had left the Forest Guard to marry Nana and settle down here as a hunter, you always told me how you used to slay horrible beasts and roam the forest with your comrades. Most of it was monstrously exaggerated, that much I know by now, but after all it was one of the reasons that made me take that entrance test two hundred and fifty years ago, so it's partly because of your stories that the Southern Division has to cope with me now.

Nana, listen to this: I made woodruff lemonade again this summer and it almost tasted like yours! You don't have to tell me how silly it is, but I have the ambition to find out your secret recipe. It reminds me of you, so I'll keep trying although I'm still absolutely worthless when it comes to cooking. At least Legolas said he liked my lemonade and coming from him that certainly means something.

Before you ask, Grandmother: No, I'm still not married, yes, I know that I qualify as a spinster, and no, I still don't mind. Sorry to disappoint you in this matter.

Grandfather, Uncle, since you always talked about your journeys to the market of Esgaroth where you used to sell your ironwork: Today I came across some merchants from there who almost got themselves killed in our forest. They were unarmed – can you believe that? Well, every time I see an Adan, I remember how much the two of you used to wonder about their strange ways and I can't say I blame you."

Tauriel stopped and felt her lips curl into a smile. She knew that she was talking complete and utter nonsense and that the only ones that could hear her were the black butterflies and the sleepy owl in the beech above her head. The popular belief about the souls of the dead coming back on the Day of Mandos was most likely nothing but superstition. Still, this was Tauriel's way of remembering her family and it was the only way she had.

She picked up her knife and flint and put them back where they belonged, then she rose and walked across the former village square. It barely took her ten steps – as a child everything had seemed so much bigger to her. She came to the miserable rests of her grandfather's smithy and allowed the memories to resurge. Hot fumes emerging from the open door and windows, the clanking of hammers on metal, the beautiful yet frightening glow of red-hot iron… She had loved to observe her grandfather and uncle during their work. She touched the clasp that held her cloak together, a delicately forged beech leaf made of copper. It was the only item she possessed to remind her of them and she had worn it ever since the last day she had seen them.

She noticed a piece of cobweb on her cloak and quickly wiped it away. Her grandmother would have reprimanded her for walking around like this. She had been a seamstress and therefore very attentive to people's attire. Tauriel had been a hopeless student when it came to fine needlework, but she had liked to help her grandmother wind colourful threads and iron pieces of fabric.

Her mother had never paid much attention to Tauriel's clothes because she herself had been covered in leaves, pieces of tree bark and clods of earth most of the time. If there was indeed such a thing as a green thumb, she had possessed it by the greatest possible extent. She had known every plant in the forest by name and effect and Tauriel swore that she had never tasted any vegetables half as delicious as the ones her mother had grown.

It was strange that a woman who had loved every growing life in the forest so much should have married a hunter of all people. Tauriel smiled without noticing when she thought about her father. She had loved all her family, but he had probably been the most important person to her. He had taken her hunting, shown her how to read the tracks of rabbits and deer, told her stories of enchanted forests and magical animals – but most importantly he had taught her to stand her ground and take care of herself when it was necessary. 'Stop turning my little girl into a warrior,' her mother had demanded playfully from time to time and her grandmother had often reproached him, 'Remember, you have a daughter, not a son!', but her father had only laughed at their complaints.

Tauriel chuckled to herself more loudly than intended. A mistake, as she noticed immediately. Inside the plant-covered ruin of the smithy she could hear a noise that did not belong there. She reached for her daggers and stayed immobile for a moment. It could be a harmless forest animal that had found refuge in the old building, but it could just as well be something worse, something that she would certainly not allow to lurk in the home of her family.

She picked up a stone from the ground and tossed it into the ruin. A rustling and an angry hissing told her that her intuition had not fooled her. She switched from daggers to bow and took a few steps backwards. 'Eru help me,' she thought, glancing nervously at the other buildings and hoping that not all of them were infested. She did not have to wait more than a minute until the first bristled black leg emerged from the thick coppice. Not hesitating a moment, Tauriel released an arrow to where she assumed the rest of the body. The spider shrieked and collapsed before it had even left its hiding place.

The noise provoked an immediate uproar in the old smithy. 'Wonderful, just what I needed tonight,' Tauriel stated to herself and got ready to shoot again. She quickly turned her head and checked the rest of the houses, noticing with relief that there was no further movement to be detected.

The next spider made its way out of the hut, but this time Tauriel waited until it came out and faced her. She had seen hundreds of these beasts in the last centuries, yet in this particular place it felt entirely different. The screams, the blood, the panic – every memory of that summer evening three centuries ago was still as clear as daylight. Pale spider eyes had stared at her exactly the same way as they were doing now. 'Let's turn the tables this time, shall we?' Tauriel thought and felt a cold smile spread over her face.

The spider was rather big and slow, as Tauriel observed while she was still standing immobile in the middle of the square. The creature clicked its fangs; it was probably rejoicing in the prospect of elf meat for dinner. When Tauriel saw two more beasts crawl out of the coppice a lot faster than their companion, she finally broke her contemplation and released the arrow. The big spider reared up when the shaft pierced its throat, but Tauriel knew it would not have the strength to attack her after this shot.

The others, however, approached her quickly and hissed at her in fury – the strangest thought crossed Tauriel's mind at the sight of them: What if she had just killed a beloved relative of theirs? What if spiders had family bonds as well? They did have a language, after all… She pushed the thought away. This was indeed the worst possible moment to debate on such a topic.

The spiders were now at arm's length from her and Tauriel could have killed them with two quick movements, but for some reason she did not want to do that. Not here. Those beasts did not deserve such mercy. She ducked down in the very last moment and caused the infuriated spiders to run past her in confusion. She rose, drew one of her daggers and threw it with as much force as she could. It cracked the left spider's back shell – Tauriel could not help but congratulate herself on this success because it was not easy to break the beasts' thick armour and normally she only managed to ruin her blades in such attempts. From the spot where the dagger had landed several cracks expanded over the spider's back. The beast started stumbling around clumsily, shrieking and hissing – obviously it was in pain. 'You're welcome,' Tauriel thought.

The second spider chose to attack her by darting towards her and aiming for her legs. She took a quick sideway step and leapt onto its back. The startled creature bucked up and tried to get rid of her, but Tauriel held on to its neck and quickly stabbed it in all of its eyes one after another. It reared up and Tauriel jumped back to the ground, watching its last moments of helpless panic and agony with an ice-cold satisfaction that she had never felt before.

She walked up to the other beast that had stopped stumbling around and was now lying on the ground with twitching legs. She grabbed her dagger that was still inside its back and twisted it once to the left and once to the right, then she pulled it out. Thick dark blood poured out of the wound and the beast gave its final shriek before it fell silent.

Tauriel contemplated the carcasses for a moment while she wiped the blood off her blades. She almost wanted to be horrified at the cruelty with which she had slaughtered those beasts and expected the most painful feeling of remorse to strike her any minute. It did not. Silently she sheathed her daggers, bowed her head to Mandos once more and started her way back into the forest.


	16. Orange Dragons

The door of the captain's office was opened and Rochanar came out with his usual grumpy expression. Legolas did his best to look casual, as if he just happened to walk by, although he had been standing around in the corridor for a good ten minutes, waiting for the weekly meeting of the captain and the lieutenants to end. "Captain!" he addressed Rochanar with lots of pretended surprise in his voice. "How convenient! Do you have a moment to spare?"

The Chief of Guards gave him a nod and asked back, "Did you speak to the king about…?" With a jerk of his head in direction of the office, where the voices of the four lieutenants could be heard, he indicated the subject of the conversation.

Legolas made sure none of them could hear him and affirmed quietly, "I did. The king has not made his final decision yet, but he approves of the… field experiment I proposed."

"Very well," Rochanar replied with a knowing nod. "I will make sure the Southern Division is supervised while the lieutenant is absent. Tuven can do that. Or, in fact, maybe I will do it myself, one last time…" A rare grin appeared on his face and Legolas returned it promptly, but with mixed feelings.

"Your farewell will mark the end of an era," he said. "You shall be missed by many."

The captain waved his hand and shook his head. "That will pass sooner than I care to admit. True, I will certainly miss the Guard as well, but a thousand years in this position are more than enough. Besides, my wife has been waiting to sail for almost a century now and, to be honest, so have I. It is time for us to leave these shores."

"I understand," Legolas answered, trying to push the nostalgic feelings aside. "We will continue your lifework as best we can." The captain gave him a friendly slap on the shoulder – which was as painful as always, but the prince had got used to it and was quite sure he would even miss it – and took his leave.

Legolas turned towards the office, ready to bear some news to Tauriel that would hopefully brighten her day as well as help the king in a most essential decision making process. An uneasy feeling rose in Legolas' stomach every time he thought about it, but he always managed to silence it by telling himself that his father and the captain certainly knew what they were doing.

On entering the gloomy little room, he was greeted with a respectful salute by the lieutenants Alation and Orchalon who were just about to exit. Their two comrades Tauriel and Tuven were still sorting their paperwork and obviously absorbed in a heated discussion that prevented them from noticing the prince.

"I'm telling you, it's going to be Alation!" Tauriel pointed out with a determined nod. Tuven frowned and shook his head firmly.

"Not on your life! That tall, dark-haired fellow from the Special Operations Unit – what's his name again?"

"Etheldir?"

"Exactly! He's the captain's favourite protégé. It's him, undoubtedly."

"Oh, please!" Tauriel insisted. "I know Etheldir, he's an excellent soldier but he has no organisational talent at all. The Guard would descend into anarchy with him in charge. Besides, Alation has been a lieutenant for more than eight hundred years, he's the king's best bet."

Legolas crossed his arms, leaned against the door frame and grinned. Since the captain had announced his retirement, the whole Guard had been engaged in the wildest speculations about who would replace him. Legolas took great pleasure in observing the rumours and hypotheses, but the fact that until then no one had guessed the king's and the captain's favourite candidate made him worry how their choice would be received by the soldiers. He was not even sure what his own opinion was.

At least Tauriel and Tuven seemed to enjoy the guessing game, as he observed. Still, as amusing as it was to watch their quarrel, he had an urgent issue to discuss, so he cleared his throat to make them aware of his presence. Both lieutenants turned around and stared at him for a moment.

"Your Highness," Tuven greeted him with a bow of his head and a slightly awkward look, while Tauriel did the same, only with a bright smile.

"Good evening," Legolas addressed both of them and to Tauriel he added, "I need to speak to you – stay a moment, will you?"

"Of course," she replied and gave Tuven a challenging wink while he gathered his paperwork and left the office.

When the lieutenant had closed the door, Legolas assessed Tauriel ironically. "What was that about? Are you already speculating on Rochanar's successor?"

She took a while to ponder the appropriate answer, but then she simply stated, "Actually, yes, we have a bet going. I maintain my position that it's Alation. And Tuven, well, he changes his mind every day. Don't tell me you haven't noticed that the entire Guard's quarters have turned into a huge betting office." She paused, tilting her head. "Do you, by any chance, have any information that could improve my odds…?" she asked carefully.

Legolas made no effort to hide his blatant grin. "I assure you, I know nothing more than you and Tuven," he lied straight to her face, hoping that his expression would not betray him.

Apparently it worked because Tauriel shrugged and said, "Fine, I'll win this bet anyway. So, what do you want to talk to me about?"

Legolas let out an inner sigh of relief; now he was more confident that he would be able to break the endeavour that he, the captain and the king referred to as a 'field experiment' to Tauriel without her noticing what it was actually about. He signalled her to sit down while he claimed the chair next to hers.

"Lieutenant, I have a mission for you," he started, not failing to convey the irony of his phrasing.

Tauriel looked at him curiously. "I'm listening."

The prince decided to cut straight to the point and said, "I would like you to accompany me on my journey to Dale."

Tauriel's eyes widened and she was speechless for a moment before she asked, "Me? But… what about my division? I can't just leave for two weeks, the captain wouldn't allow it..."

Legolas cut her short with a nonchalant wave of his hand. "Don't worry, I spoke to him and he already gave his permission," he assured her. "Your division will be in capable hands, probably Tuven's."

Now Tauriel frowned in disbelief. "Two weeks with him? I can already see my soldiers' discipline crash and burn…"

Legolas rolled his eyes. This was not exactly how he had imagined the conversation to develop. "To be honest, I hoped for a little more enthusiasm," he admitted. "I assumed you would like this surprise."

Tauriel was obviously torn between joy and doubt. "A surprise it is indeed… And of course I'm happy. I've always wanted to see Dale."

"I know," Legolas gave back. "That's the whole point." He had not even finished his sentence when he suddenly felt guilty for this impertinent lie, so he added, "Well, and the fact that I would miss you terribly if I left you behind, so in part it's a very selfish decision of mine." That at least was true.

Tauriel finally managed a smile and said, "Sorry for not coming across as enthusiastic as I should. It's just so unexpected and I don't like the idea of simply disappearing for two weeks and leaving my soldiers to deal with the spiders by themselves. But of course it's a wonderful surprise and I'm really looking forward to going to Dale with you." She slid her chair closer to his and kissed him lightly. A look into her face told Legolas that she actually meant what she was saying this time, even though her inner battle of excitement versus sense of duty was obviously still in progress.

He smirked and said teasingly, "Always so dutiful… One of these days you'll turn into a grumpy old bear, like Rochanar."

"Shut up!" Tauriel gave back, chuckling and honouring him with an affectionate elbow nudge. Legolas put on an air of majesty, straightened up and replied in his best commander-in-chief voice, "You may want to rephrase that."

"Oh, you're right, I apologise," Tauriel conceded with mischief dripping from every syllable. She rose from her chair and snapped to attention in front of him. "I meant, shut up, Your Highness!"

She did not get the chance to savour his look of both surprise and amusement for long. In the blink of an eye he got up, took hold of her waist and pinned her against the table with an iron grip. "Lieutenant, I'm disappointed in you," he stated, trying to use the same serious tone as he had before, which proved to be quite difficult with Tauriel leaning against the table and wrapping one leg around him to pull him closer.

"I am deeply sorry," she purred. "How can I make it up to you?" She brushed his hair back and began to trail kisses down his neck while her hands gently stroked his back. Legolas did not have the smallest inclination to think about a coherent answer, so he simply enjoyed the prickling sensation of her lips on his skin and breathed in the scent of her hair. She smelled of lavender, mingled with earth, moss and wood.

His hand started to wander along her leg that was still wrapped around him and holding him captive – not that he would have minded. When he had reached the middle of her thigh, he noticed something uneven beneath the fabric of her trousers, but before he could wonder what it was, he suddenly felt her body stiffen and heard her gasp against his neck while her fingernails buried themselves painfully in his back. He immediately let go of her and took a step backwards. "What in Eru's name… Tauriel?"

She was biting her lip and covering her thigh with her hand. "What's wrong?" Legolas asked in alarm.

Tauriel shook her head and gave back with a grimace, "Nothing to worry about. Sorry about the fingernails…"

Legolas raised an eyebrow. "Tell me what that is," he demanded and gestured to her leg. "Are you injured? What creature couldn't you stay away from this time?"

She shrugged cluelessly. "No, it's… I don't even know what exactly it was, some strange thorny plant I had never seen before. It's nothing, really, just a harmless cut." She made an effort to smile, but it was not good enough for Legolas.

"I see. And I bet my right hand that no healer has caught a glimpse of this 'harmless cut' until now. When did it happen?"

Tauriel glanced back at him in defiance. "Two days ago. Look, if I went to the healers with every scratch I get in the forest…"

"You cannot go on a journey with an inflamed, possibly poisoned wound," Legolas tried to reason with her while simultaneously forcing back the wave of anger that was rising in his chest. Someday Tauriel's stubbornness would drive him to the edge of his sanity, that much was certain. As rigorous as she was when it came to the safety of her soldiers, as carelessly did she treat her own health sometimes.

"You should go to the Houses of Healing straight away," he insisted and when he saw that pressure would not get him anywhere, he added softly, "Please, for my sake." He took her hand and gave her a look that was obviously worried enough to persuade her.

"Fine, I'll show it to Amril, he knows an antidote for everything," she gave in reluctantly. Legolas sent a silent plea to the Valar that she would actually fulfil her promise, but he was not too confident at all.

* * *

><p>The king gathered his cloak more firmly around his shoulders and watched his breath form small clouds in the cold morning air. Winter was coming early this year, or maybe that was only his impression because he was not fond of the cold season.<p>

The travelling party was already assembled in the courtyard, waiting for the prince to join them. Three soldiers were going to accompany Legolas to Dale – Thranduil assessed the escort from across the courtyard and noticed with relief that he would have trusted his own, or, in this case, his son's life to each one of them without thinking twice.

"Make sure you travel only by proper roads," he reminded Legolas once more, "even though the journey will be slightly longer that way. Do not venture into the wild."

"Yes, Adar," the prince gave back, unsuccessfully trying to hide the exhaustion in his voice. Thranduil knew how tired Legolas was of his advice; he had to admit that he had probably repeated it too many times. Still, he knew his adventurous offspring well enough to be careful.

Thranduil handed him a leather case that contained several letters and other paperwork. "Remember: No new trade agreements!" he emphasized. "We want their wheat, but we do not need their fabrics, nor their wine, and least of all their steel."

A smirk full of indulgent annoyance spread over Legolas' face as he replied, "I know! I am sure the Lord of Dale meant no offence in offering to sell us all those things. He was probably unaware of how low their quality was, compared to our own craftsmanship."

The king shrugged. "The ignorance of our mortal neighbours shall not be our concern. What I need you to do, however, is to inquire after the current situation in Erebor. Since that Dwarf lord from Ered Mithrin, who calls himself 'King under the Mountain', has taken residence there the old kingdom seems to reflourish. It worries me – you never know what malevolent eyes the greed of the Dwarves may attract." A shadow flashed over the king's face and made Legolas gulp.

"I shall see it done," he assured his father.

Thranduil threw another look over to the waiting soldiers. "As for your so-called field experiment," he said discreetly and inclined his head towards the group, "look at it as the new captain's first mission."

The surprise reflected on his son's face was more than obvious. "So you have already made your decision?" the prince wanted to know.

"Indeed I have," Thranduil affirmed. "Lieutenant Tauriel is the best option I have. Of all four divisions hers has the lowest mortality rate, the highest enemy kill count and the least reported discipline problems. It is a mere question of mathematics. She is efficient and that is what I need. She will be inaugurated as soon as you return. You may inform her if you wish so."

Legolas nodded slowly, struggling to give his face a neutral expression. Thranduil knew perfectly well that his son had strongly mixed feelings about his decision to appoint Tauriel as the new Captain of the Woodland Guard, but he blamed it on Legolas' personal acquaintance with the lieutenant, of whatever nature it might be.

Thranduil let out a mental sigh. He did not approve of his son's closeness to that soldier, but he still granted him a little juvenile freedom. He had resolved not to interfere as long as neither Legolas' reputation nor Tauriel's performance was compromised. At some point the prince would of course have to give up this fancy in order to enter a respectable match. Who knew, maybe Tauriel's promotion and all the additional time-consuming duties attached to it would kill two birds with one stone and solve that inconvenient problem without any extraneous influence.

Sending Tauriel on this journey was an attempt of accustoming her to the more ceremonious requirements of her new rank, such as official visits, negotiations and politics in general. Having proved to be more proficient with weapons than with words until then, she would probably need a lot of training. Thranduil knew that he should not have taken that long to make up his mind as to who would replace Rochanar. Now the old captain would leave before he could properly instruct the new one; the ship that should take him to the West would not wait for him to finish training his successor. However, Thranduil trusted Tauriel to adapt quickly enough to the new challenge, just as she always did. Besides, he was sure that Legolas would gladly lend her a helping hand – very gladly, as he stated to himself with an inner eye-rolling.

Why had the king chosen this impetuous, barely five hundred year old Silvan above Alation, the experienced strategist, Orchalon, the battle-tested warrior, and all the other candidates with outstanding merits? Apart from what he had told Legolas, it was not only the numbers that spoke in her favour. The forest grew darker with every year that passed and Thranduil understood that the evil brewing in his lands was far more dangerous than most of his subjects realised. He had seen it before and it scared him. To face it, the established strategies and laws of honourable warfare would not do. The king needed someone in charge of his army who had no scruples to play by the same rules as the enemy.

Within the last two hundred years Lieutenant Tauriel had become known for her dedication, her firm leadership style and her tenacity, but also for her ruthlessness in dealing with adversaries. She did not care too much about moral standards when it came to protecting her homeland. Her personal reasons to loathe the spawn of Dol Guldur added to the ferocity with which she treated the enemy when necessary and under different circumstances Thranduil would have considered her a liability. Yet, he reasoned, maybe a traumatised orphan full of accumulated hate was just what he needed. He was well aware that these thoughts were unprofessional and despicable, but as long as they helped him protect his people, he did not care. He was probably not much different from Tauriel in that matter.

He stopped his contemplation and turned back towards his son who was assessing him quizzically. Thranduil cleared his throat and put his hand on Legolas' shoulder. "Have a safe journey."

The prince returned the gesture with a smile and nodded. "I will see you in two weeks," he replied before he walked off in direction of his companions.

When Legolas mounted his horse, Thranduil could see him exchange a grin and a few teasing words with Tauriel. 'Manwe help me, I must be mad,' he thought to himself. Shaking his head and sighing for real this time, the king turned around and started his way back to his study.

* * *

><p>The city of Dale was as stunning as it had always been: Beautiful, elaborate buildings, busy streets full of people from all over Arda, a whirl of colours and odours that tired out the senses, yet left them no time to rest because every new impression wanted to be soaked up and savoured. Legolas had been to Dale many times before, but still it did not fail to amaze him. He could only imagine what Tauriel was feeling during her first visit in this city that could not have been more different from her secluded home beneath the trees.<p>

She was standing next to him in the tastefully decorated reception room, waiting for the lord of the city to join them. They had arrived the evening before and briefly greeted him and some officials, but the main meeting, where the trade agreements between Dale and the Woodland Realm should be discussed and renewed, was still ahead of them.

Legolas looked over to Tauriel and saw her shift from one leg to the other. He could have blamed it on her injury, which still pained her, as she had admitted to him. But the way she was playing with the coattail of her uniform told him that she was nervous.

"Relax," he whispered to her, "he's not going to eat us."

Tauriel shrugged and replied under her breath, "That's easy for you to say. You didn't make the worst possible first impression on him yesterday."

Now Legolas could not refrain from chuckling anymore. "You were indeed somewhat… emphatic," he pointed out. "'Take your hands off him or I'll cut them off' may not have been the most elegant greeting."

"I'm here to guard you, aren't I?" she defended herself. "How was I supposed to know that he only wanted to grab your hand? The way he darted towards you with that slimy grin, and that sword hanging from his belt – for all I knew it could have been an attack."

Legolas let out a deep, very controlled breath in order to keep himself from laughing out loud. The two watchmen next to the door were already eyeing them sceptically, probably because two Elves whispering to each other in Sindarin, one of whom had assaulted their master the night before, were not the most reassuring sight to them.

"Just smile and look trustworthy," Legolas advised Tauriel. "And although I doubt that he will try to shake my hand again, if he does, please let him. To them it's a simple gesture of politeness."

Tauriel gave him a frown. "Why would they do that?"

"I don't know, it's customary…" was all he could say before the door flung open and the lord entered the room, accompanied by his treasurer and two more Edain Legolas did not recognise. It was downright irritating how fast those mortals replaced each other – the last time he had come to the city, half of the people he was dealing with now had probably not even been born. On one of his earlier visits he had made the embarrassing mistake to ask for a Man he had negotiated with before, only to be informed that the person in question had been dead for thirty-five years. Legolas remembered that awkward moment all too well and assessed the four Men thoroughly.

It astonished him that the lord was still the same as last time, or at least that was what Legolas thought. He bore the same name as the last one, but there was a chance of them being father and son… The Men of Dale had the confusing habit of naming their firstborn sons after themselves, a tradition that no Elda would ever understand. Truth be told, the fact that most mortals looked alike to Legolas did not facilitate the situation. The lord had grey hair and wrinkled skin – an indicator of advanced age, as far as he was informed. But yet, what did 'advanced' mean in the life of an Adan? The prince tried to hide his confusion and focus on the four Men in front of him.

"Prince Legolas!" the lord greeted him and, after a hesitant glance in Tauriel's direction, he held out his right hand. Legolas put on a polite smile and shook it, forcing himself not to look directly at his lieutenant. From the corner of his eyes he could see her standing immobile and displaying an expression of professional indifference. 'Perfect,' he stated to himself with satisfaction, 'she's learning quickly.'

However, the thought of Tauriel becoming the new captain still gave him a stomach ache for various reasons. Being as conscientious and disciplined as she was, she would probably end up spending every minute of every day at work and neglect her own needs without even noticing. The responsibility for the whole realm's safety was a heavy burden and Legolas wondered how long Tauriel would be able to carry it without losing a part of her vivacious, optimistic nature. On top of that, most of her days would be filled with organisational tasks and she would not see much of the forest anymore, although the practical part of guard duty had always been her favourite. And apart from his altruistic concern for Tauriel's well-being, Legolas was – quite selfishly – afraid that he would hardly see her anymore, except for professional purposes. For all these reasons he had not told her about the upcoming promotion yet and he was not exactly looking forward to doing so.

Legolas forced himself to push those gloomy contemplations aside for the moment. There were more urgent issues at hand that demanded his full focus. He sat down at the round table in the centre of the room together with the four town officials. 'Here we go once again', he thought and prepared himself to tell those people exactly the same things he had already told them – or rather their predecessors, which was the whole problem in negotiating with mortals – forty years before.

* * *

><p>"Watch where you walk!" Legolas snapped at the Dwarf who had just bumped into him and caused him to lose sight of Tauriel in the middle of the incredibly crowded marketplace. The Dwarf muttered something unintelligible into his beard and gave Legolas a rude gesture before he vanished in the crowd.<p>

The prince frowned and started to look out for Tauriel. After the meeting with the town officials – which had ended successfully, thank the Valar – she had urged him to go on a sightseeing tour. He had gladly obliged her, but what he had not foreseen was that they would end up at the market. In the evening hours the merchants wanted to get rid of their last products because they did not want to carry them back home, so they sold them for lower prices. That circumstance attracted even more customers than during the day and now the two Woodland Elves were trapped in a mess of chatting marketers and bargaining dwarves, the smell of people, animals and food and the sound of tools, voices and footsteps.

Usually Legolas was the one who did not mind large crowds, whereas Tauriel avoided them whenever she could, but that evening she seemed to be quite cheerful and absorbed all the new impressions eagerly. Where the other two soldiers were, Legolas had no idea. Their task was to secure the journey, but during their stay in Dale their service was not required, so the prince assumed they were out and about exploring the city as well.

Tauriel, however, had not left Legolas' side since their arrival. He still had not told her, but after all getting used to official visits was why he had brought her. Apart from the little incident on the first evening she was doing very well so far. She had even redeemed herself with the lord by giving him a brief but very accurate explanation about the Woodland Guard's arsenal of weapons. After that she had clarified why the Eldar had no use whatsoever for leather quivers and arrowheads made in Dale. Her firm rejection had saved Legolas an hour of politely beating around the bush. Granted, a part of that saved time had been used to assure the lord that no one had meant to question the quality of Dale's craftsmanship, but Legolas was content nevertheless.

Now, however, Tauriel was nowhere to be seen. The prince decided that it was of no use to go and look for her in the crowd, so he worked his way to the fairly ostentatious fountain in the middle of the market square and took an observing position next to it, trying to avoid the curious looks of two pipe-smoking men and a few Dwarf children playing with little toy boats made of nutshells.

About half an hour later he was observing a Man in his hopeless attempt to drive an obstinate donkey across the square – why he did not simply explain to the obviously frightened animal that there was no reason to worry, Legolas could not figure out. Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder and spun around.

"There you are!" he welcomed Tauriel, who was gracing him with her brightest smile. "Where have you been?" She sat down on the edge of the fountain – quite atypical of her, Legolas noticed and hoped that it was not because of her injury.

"I made an acquaintance," she explained happily. "I met the loveliest Dwarf lady."

Legolas could not stop his face from frowning. "A Dwarf?" he asked doubtfully.

"Yes! She has a stall with all sorts of herbs and tea and medicine – she's a healer, you know – and I happened to walk by when some boy was just trying to steal a box of dried mushrooms from her. So I tackled him, saved the mushrooms and out of gratitude she invited me to eat. Here, try some!" She held a paper bag under Legolas' nose.

He glanced inside and took a step backwards at the sight, and mostly the smell, of its contents. "What in Eru's name is that?" he wanted to know with a slightly disgusted expression.

Tauriel shrugged. "I have no idea, some sort of meat I guess. I didn't catch the Khuzdul name, but it's delicious." As if to emphasise her statement, she shoved one of the undefinable greyish-brown chunks into her mouth.

Legolas bit back a noise of disapproval. "I'll stick with the lembas I brought from home, thank you very much."

Tauriel tilted her head. "Come on, we can't travel abroad without trying the local specialties," she insisted while still chewing intensely.

Legolas sighed and relented, "Fine, I'll give it one chance." He fished one of the chunks out of the bag and inspected it closely before he held his breath and put it into his mouth. Its taste resembled nothing he had ever experienced before and he had no words to describe it. The stringy consistency forced him to chew for almost a minute before he finally managed to swallow it and comment, "Well, that was… interesting." Tauriel smiled widely. She had already eaten two more chunks and Legolas could not figure out how she did it without choking.

"Shall we do some more exploring?" he proposed while he side-eyed the two pipe-smoking Edain who were observing Tauriel with far too much interest.

She caught his look and he could have sworn that a smirk flashed over her face for the split of a second. "Of course," she gave back and rose, "although I probably won't walk far tonight." Her obvious pain while moving her injured leg rendered all further explanations unnecessary.

Legolas frowned and remarked, "I thought Amril was so good with antidotes." "

He is," Tauriel affirmed, "but he couldn't do much. He said that it's not dangerous, only quite unpleasant, and that I should have come earlier... Yes, I know! Don't look at me like that!"

Legolas made an effort to refrain from any comment. Instead he pointed out, "We could try to find a healer here… Although I think there is no one in Dale who has any knowledge about what we consider proper healing."

Tauriel shook her head and waved her hand at him refusingly. She slowly started walking and after a few careful steps she said, "See? It's not so bad. I don't intend to let some poisonous plant ruin the most exciting journey I've ever been on. Let's go!" With that she grabbed his hand and pulled him with her.

After struggling and pushing their way through the crowd and finally leaving the marketplace, they decided to climb the city wall to get an overview of the place. The stone stairs were narrow and slippery, but not half as difficult to handle as a moss-covered tree. There was a guard's walkway on top of the thick wall, protected by head-high merlons. It was a strong and well thought out defence system, as Legolas admitted, even though no watchmen were currently positioned on that particular spot.

"Look how clear the sky is," Tauriel observed and gazed upwards. Legolas did the same and for a moment he was stunned by the ocean of stars above him. In the Woodland Realm he needed to climb up to the highest treetops if he wanted to see the night sky. The courtyard and the watchtowers at the palace were always illuminated by too many torches to see the stars as brightly as he did now.

"There is the Eagle," he said and pointed to the most prominent of the visible constellations. "The Men of Gondor say that he brings good luck if he shines upon a battle."

Tauriel nodded while still contemplating the sky. "They have a point. The Eagle stands for courage, wisdom and grace. You know," she said and turned towards him with a smile, "somehow he reminds me of you." Legolas did not know what to answer – Tauriel had never been overly generous with compliments and he would not have expected to receive this particular one from anybody.

She let out a chuckle that made him aware of the perplexed expression on his face. "No need to blush," she teased him and wrapped her arms around his waist. "If you had seen yourself manoeuvring through all that diplomatic frippery today, you would probably be just as impressed as I am. You never lost your composure, no matter how much stupidity and impertinence those Edain threw at you."

Legolas sighed and admitted, "Well, it was not easy and they probably thought the same about us. But thank you for the flattery." He brushed a strand of hair out of her face and caressed her lips with the tip of his thumb, feeling them curl under the light touch.

"Let's see what constellation reminds me of you," he said and turned his eyes back to the sky. Feeling her so close to him made him aware of how drastically things were soon going to change. He took her in his arms and looked at her with a bittersweet smile.

"What?" Tauriel asked. "No constellation for me? That's disappointing. Come on, I'm sure you can find something if you take another look at all these amazingly bright stars up there."

Without taking his eyes off her Legolas tilted his head and answered, "Oh, believe me, I'm already quite amazed at what I'm seeing." Now it was Tauriel's turn to blush. "As for your request," Legolas went on, "I would say… a shooting star."

Her eyes widened in disbelief. "Seriously, I remind you of a dying star?"

"Not that part!" he gave back and laughed, "But shooting stars are bright and fervid and a little impetuous – and they always catch me by surprise."

Tauriel grinned. "Nicely saved," she conceded, "shooting star it is then. Do I have to grant you a wish now?"

Her innocent tone along with her mischievous smile made Legolas chuckle. He slid a hand around her waist and let it slowly wander to her back before he brought her close with a gentle pull. "I wish I didn't have to return you to your duties so soon," he whispered, but Tauriel silenced him with a kiss. Very tenderly she bit his lower lip and he felt her mouth curl into a smile when she refused his first attempt to tease it open, only to oblige him a moment later. His fingers found the top button of her tunic and opened it to slip under her collar. Her skin was soft and warm and invited his lips to part from hers and explore the side of her neck. Tauriel breathed deeply and buried her hand in his hair.

"You don't have to 'return' me," she gave back. "We always find a little time to spare, don't we?"

Legolas heard her words and processed them, but as his mind was currently otherwise occupied, he did not think twice before he blurted, "Hopefully we still do, once you're captain."

Only when Tauriel pulled away from him and took a step back, Legolas realised what he had just said. Tauriel looked straight into his face and after an excruciatingly long silence she asked very slowly, "Once I am… captain?"

Legolas nodded and let out a deep breath. "Yes. The king chose you."

Tauriel blinked a few times and sat down on the wall between two of the giant merlons. She did not say anything, but Legolas could read her thoughts from her face. He came towards her, crouched down in front of her and took her hands. After another minute or two she looked at him and whispered, "How will I do this? A division, fine, but the entire Woodland Guard? And why me? There are others who are much more suitable…"

Legolas interrupted her by squeezing her hands. "My father gave it a lot of thought and I think we may trust his judgement. I know you will succeed. Besides, you will have people to help you. Don't be afraid."

She made a grimace and added, "What will the soldiers think? I mean, the other lieutenants, they will… Eru, they'll hate me!"

"Of course not," Legolas tried to convince her. "They know your merits and they will most certainly be professional enough to accept the king's choice. As long as you don't make any huge changes within the first year or so…"

"Oh, but I will!" Tauriel interjected as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "It is about time, isn't it?" Suddenly she did not look helpless anymore and grasped his hands with more determination.

Legolas gave her a surprised look that quickly turned into a grin. "I expected nothing less," he stated, relieved that at least this part of the problem was solved.

* * *

><p>When Legolas awoke at dawn, he had barely slept two hours during the whole night. His stomach still felt as if he had drunk a glass of liquid iron, even though there was absolutely nothing left in it that could possibly cause him such pain. The strange Dwarven food had granted him the most horrible night of the last three centuries and he cursed Aule for creating those bearded troublemakers in the first place. He wondered how poor Tauriel was feeling – she had eaten a whole bag full of those Eru-forsaken brown chunks.<p>

After unsuccessfully trying to soothe his agitated stomach with a bite of lembas, he made his way to the kitchen of the lord's mansion to ask for a cup of camomile. When he had accomplished that mission, he decided to get some fresh air and went to the little park behind the mansion. To his surprise he found Tauriel and the two other guards who were discussing the route of the return journey. When he approached them, their bewildered faces told him that he probably looked like the living embodiment of nausea.

"Good morning," Tauriel greeted him,."You look a little… pale."

"Indeed," Legolas grumbled and sat down on an iron bench to prevent his stomach from turning again. "That darned Dwarven food you made me eat kept me up all night. So much for the local specialties, as you called them. How come it didn't affect you?"

"I don't know," she answered. "Maybe you should see a healer before we leave." She whispered a few words to the two soldiers who nodded and walked off in direction of the mansion.

"Wait, when did I agree to…" Legolas protested, but Tauriel sat down next to him and interrupted him, "You look really ill, I'm not letting you start a journey in this state."

He mumbled, "It's just an upset stomach, for Eru's sake!"

"Now you aren't any better than me with my poisonous plant!" Tauriel pointed out with an infuriating accuracy. Legolas could not argue against his own point, so he shrugged and resigned himself to his fate.

* * *

><p>On hearing that the Elvish guest was ill, the lord's butler had summoned the healer of his master's confidence. To make sure Legolas did not get second thoughts about the treatment, Tauriel had held him captive in his chamber until the healer knocked on the door.<p>

"Enter!" the prince commanded with more annoyance in his voice than he had intended. After all it was not that poor fellow's fault that…

"A Dwarf?" Legolas exclaimed when he saw the healer walk into the room. "With all due respect, Tauriel, but…"

He did not get the chance to finish because Tauriel had jumped to her feet at the sight of the healer and started smiling from one ear to the other. "You?" she asked in surprise. "I didn't expect to see you again so soon. Legolas, this is the lady I told you about, the one I met at the market." She turned to him and gestured towards the Dwarf, still smiling far too much to do the situation justice.

Legolas glared at her and said in Sindarin, "First of all, this is not a lady. He has a beard, in case you have not noticed. Second, I'm not letting a Dwarf come anywhere near me, not when my condition was caused by Dwarven food in the first place." He shook his head determinedly – had Tauriel gone insane?

He assessed the Dwarf warily, who was already starting to produce all sorts of pouches and little boxes from the numerous pockets of his incredibly tasteless cloak while Tauriel was chatting him up in the Common Tongue. It really seemed to be the Dwarf she had met before – Legolas took a closer look and conceded that it might indeed be a woman, but who could tell with all that hair on his, or her, face?

Legolas carefully rose from his chair and addressed the healer as politely as he could, "I thank you for coming, but I have no need for your care. Now would you please take your things and…"

"Legolas, sit down!" Tauriel commanded and walked towards him. "Don't be childish." She pushed him back on the chair, gently but with unmistakable determination.

He glared at her, then at the Dwarf, and pondered his options. He could send the healer away and endure the nausea and the pain, but he could also give the Dwarf a chance, and if it was only to get Tauriel off his back. To be honest, how much worse could his condition get? "Fine!" he gave in and glanced at the dwarf, "I'm all yours."

The healer waddled towards him with an indifferent expression and set a little clay cup on the table in front of him. Then she opened several of her pouches and bottles and made the most disgusting mixture of herbs and undefinable liquids he had ever seen. "Drink this!" she instructed him shortly and shoved the cup in his hand. Legolas eyed it hesitantly.

"Mahal's axe!" the dwarf exclaimed. "Just drink it, will you! I'm not trying to poison you. One less Elf to wander this world would not be worth the trouble." With an eye-rolling she crossed her short arms over her voluminous beard and stared at him like a creature from the darkest depths of Moria – or Erebor, in this case.

Legolas ignored her remark, raised the cup and sniffed it. He had expected an overwhelming smell, but to his great surprise the mixture had no scent at all. He arched an eyebrow at the Dwarf, who was still staring at him grimly. 'What do I have to lose?' he reasoned and emptied the cup in one gulp. At first he did not feel anything, but when the liquid passed his gullet, it suddenly seemed to get hotter and hotter until it burned like fire in his stomach. A new wave of nausea came over him and although he wanted nothing more than go for that damn Dwarf's throat, all he could do was jump to his feet and rush out of the room in direction of the latrine.

When he came back, no words in the languages of Eldar, Men or Dwarves could have described his astonishment. The nausea and the stomach ache were gone as if he had never eaten any strange Dwarf food at all. Granted, the last few minutes at the latrine had been a trip to the Halls of Mandos and back and Legolas' throat still felt rather sore, but apart from that he had never been healthier.

He entered the chamber and was welcomed by yet another surprise: Tauriel was sitting on his bed, her injured leg stretched out and exposed, while the Dwarf was rubbing some sharp-smelling ointment on the cut. Legolas gasped at the sight of the inflamed wound; it was swollen and the skin around its edges had turned purple.

Tauriel gave him a hesitant grin. "How are you feeling?" she inquired.

He tilted his head and replied, "Much better, amazingly enough. Uhm… well, thank you." The Dwarf gave him a short jerk of her head that was undoubtedly supposed to mean 'I told you so!'. Tauriel tried to smile, but her face could only produce a grimace of pain. Legolas threw another look at her wound and if he had not just emptied his stomach to the highest possible degree, the sight of it might have made him sick again.

"Shall I throw him out?" the Dwarf asked Tauriel as if Legolas could not even hear her. Tauriel shook her head and answered behind gritted teeth, "Don't bother, it's nothing he hasn't seen before." The Dwarf shrugged and went on rubbing while Legolas felt his cheeks flush red.

When she had applied the ointment and bandaged the wound, the healer made Tauriel swallow a pinch of dark brown powder. "Ground fireroot," she explained, "a powerful painkiller. I'll give you some more for your journey, but don't take too much at a time or you'll see little orange dragons and hear the trees sing Dwarven drinking songs all the way." She let out a throaty growl that was probably meant to be a laugh. Tauriel nodded and thanked the healer while she readjusted her trousers and boots.

However, the Dwarf was not done yet. She sat down next to Tauriel and started to fiddle around with a strand of her hair. Standing behind her broad back, Legolas could not see what she was doing, but when she finally rose, a most ridiculous braid with a very ugly blue bead adorned – or rather disfigured – Tauriel's hair. Tauriel herself did not seem to mind too much, she only inquired curiously what it meant.

"It's a Dwarven lucky charm," the healer told her, "it will scare off the evil spirits that cause you pain."

"The spirits are not the only ones scared off by that," Legolas could not refrain from contributing, which earned him a death glare from the Dwarf and a smirk from Tauriel.

The healer gathered her utensils and bid them goodbye, not without a last condescending glance at Legolas. When she had left, he sat down on the bed next to Tauriel and stared at the door for a good while before he finally managed to ask, "How is your leg? Is the fireroot working?" He looked at Tauriel questioningly, but all he got in return was a giggle, a rather stupid grin and a very emphatic nod. 'Eru help me!' he thought, 'This is going to be an interesting journey.'


	17. Yellow-Eyed Trolls

The tension between the six people gathered in the captain's office was almost palpable and made Tauriel want to flee to a secluded place as far away as possible and simply scream at the top of her lungs. She had wanted to do that most of the time since she wore the silver badge of the Captain of the Woodland Guard. But instead she forced herself once more to stay calm, concentrated on her breathing and pinched her own thigh under the table in order to channel at least a small part of the long-accumulated destructive energy. It worked; given that her scar from the cut of the poisonous plant was still rather sensitive, the stinging pain distracted Tauriel from her emotions. She sat up straight again and looked firmly at the four lieutenants and the prince who were sitting around the table with her.

"If you deem it necessary, Your Highness, you are welcome to accompany me on my control round at the Lower Crossroads," she addressed Legolas with the most composed expression she could master. Her voice trembled ever so slightly and she knew that he noticed it.

She could see his jaw clench for a split of a second before he bowed his head and answered, "I will, because the reports of Trolls wandering the forest so close to the palace are indeed most alarming." Tauriel could only just stop herself from rolling her eyes.

Now the prince addressed Orchalon, the lieutenant of the Forest Guard, "How is it even possible that those creatures have not been captured yet? They were spotted for the first time four days ago."

Orchalon made a grimace and grumbled, "I assure you, Your Highness, my soldiers are doing their best to find them, but since half my division was absorbed by the Southern Border Guard, I do not have the means to solve this problem as required." He pronounced the last words very emphatically and gave Tauriel a glare before he continued, "Besides, when did it become the task of the Forest Guard to keep out intruders from outside the realm?"

He turned towards Tuven, the leader of the Northern Border Guard, who was nervously wiggling about on his chair when he gave back, "True, we made a mistake in letting them enter, but my soldiers have a hard time adjusting to the new distribution of the watch posts. We simply overlooked them…"

"How do you overlook two giant Mountain Trolls?" Alation, the Palace Guard lieutenant, thought it necessary to contribute while frowning as gracefully as ever. "Although I have to agree with you on the new watch post distribution. Under Captain Rochanar the old system worked very well during a thousand years and I do not see why…"

That was it – that was the point where Tauriel's efforts to maintain her composure failed miserably. Her palm hit the table with a loud noise that made everyone in the room wince. She threw an almost apologetic look at the fourth lieutenant, a young fellow named Glandir who had taken over the Southern Border Guard after Tauriel's promotion. He seemed rather intimidated. Tauriel felt sorry for him because he worked very hard to do everything right and even though he did excellently, the other lieutenants did not appear to be overly fond of him – probably because he agreed with the new captain's opinion most of the time.

"Lieutenants, enough with the complaints!" Tauriel demanded firmly. "The new system has been introduced in order to meet the threat from Dol Guldur. Within the last three centuries the Southern Division has proven it to be efficient. And as all of you know very well, the growing number of spiders and Orcs coming from the South made it necessary to reinforce the watch in the areas close to Dol Guldur, so yes, the Forest Guard had to be reduced in favour of the Southern Border Guard."

She took a deep breath to calm down, only to meet the disapproving glances of Orchalon, Alation and Tuven. She did not even want to look at Legolas, but he spared her the decision by addressing her, "Captain, everyone understands your intention. Yet I agree with the lieutenants on the point that Rochanar's system has worked perfectly for a long time and it may have been unnecessary to make such radical changes."

Tauriel stared at him in disbelief. Had he really just openly sided with the people who were defying her orders? Within the four months that she had been captain, she had got more than used to him contradicting her – in fact, most of their conversations lately consisted of Guard-related arguments that tended to get personal at some point – but blatantly undermining her authority in the presence of her subordinates was a line he had never crossed before.

She wanted to shout at him – and if they had been alone, nothing would have stopped her from doing so – but as the situation required her professionalism, she answered as calmly as possible, "I respect and admire Captain Rochanar's merits in protecting the Woodland Realm. However, times change and the Guard has to adjust to the new challenges. The king entrusted me with making these adjustments and I am not willing to answer to you about my every decision."

From the corner of her eyes Tauriel could see Glandir gulp heavily and throw a worried look at the prince. Alation and Orchalon exchanged a frown while Tuven was struggling to suppress a reluctantly appreciative smirk. Legolas' face reflected his inner struggle. 'He looks adorable when he gets angry,' Tauriel could not help but state to herself, but she quickly pushed the thought away.

Finally Legolas uttered, "Very well, you may convince me of your new system's potential. I will meet you in an hour at the main gate." With that he rose, gave the lieutenants a short nod and left the office.

Tauriel shook off her annoyance and tried to focus on the remaining points on the agenda. At least now that the prince was gone, she did not have to concentrate on the right level of pretended professional distance anymore.

"Tuven," she addressed the leader of the Northern Border Guard, who was drawing something on the margin of the piece of paper in front of him and gave a start at her words, "do you wish me to clarify once again how the new watch post distribution is supposed to work?"

He shook his head and gave back, "No, thank you, I understand… I think. But seriously, the whole system is just odd!"

"Darn right it is, for Oromë's sake!" Orchalon interjected and slammed his journal shut.

Tauriel let out a sigh. Once more her thoughts wandered back to the cold autumn morning four months before when she had been standing in the throne room full of soldiers and officials, wearing her new dress uniform for the first time and feeling as small and out of place as an Elven poet in a Dwarven mine. Rochanar had handed his silver captain's badge and the ancient ceremonial sword to the king, who had then given them to Tauriel after receiving her oath to protect the Woodland Realm by her life or death. She had made two mistakes while reciting the traditional declaration and her injured leg had been throbbing painfully during the whole excruciatingly long ceremony. Legolas had watched her from his spot next to the throne and it had mostly been the reassuring smile on his face that had helped her get through the situation.

Now there was not much left of his support. Tauriel guessed that he might not have expected her to throw herself into the new challenge with that much confidence. Maybe he would have preferred her to be more helpless and in greater need of his advice and assistance. But no, that was quite a mean presumption, she reminded herself.

Truth be told, she neglected him, as well as all her other relations. Of course she did spend time with him in private, but even then her thoughts often went back to her duties. She could not help it and Eru knew how guilty she felt about it. On the other hand, Legolas' behaviour did not exactly simplify the situation. The first few times she had still seen his point in questioning her decisions, but since she had established her determination to go through with the changes, he seemed to take an infuriating delight in contradicting her just for the sake of doing so.

They had always challenged each other and it had been a game more than anything. Now, however, Tauriel's patience hung by a thread and she sensed that Legolas felt the same way. She did not know how they had ended up in that uncomfortable situation and she could not deny that it was starting to scare her.

"Tauriel?" Alation's voice woke her from her thoughts.

She blinked and forced her mind to refocus. The lieutenants were still assessing her sceptically, so she made the last desperate attempt she could think of and said, "Look, I know you don't understand why it's me of all people who is sitting here in front of you and giving orders." In her head she added, 'I don't understand it either,' but she knew better than to say it out loud. Instead she continued, "We all have to adapt to the new situation, which is just as hard for me as it is for you. Still, we need to cooperate. We always have, haven't we?"

Alation gave her a benevolent nod, followed by his comrades. Tauriel went on, "I'm asking for one proper chance to convince you of my system – but that requires some actual commitment and your willingness to go through with it. A half-hearted effort will of course result in nothing but chaos, I mean, what did you expect?"

For some reason she looked at Orchalon specifically, who returned her glance for a good while before he shrugged and answered, "Fine, I'll make sure my soldiers do it right from now on." His grumpy tone and his frown did not prevent Tauriel from giving him a smile.

After that she turned towards Tuven, whose objections to her system were most likely based on nothing but laziness. "What about you? Can I count on the Northern Division to give it a serious try?"

He rolled his eyes. "What choice do I have?"

"Actually, none," she gave back with a slightly evil smirk.

It incited Tuven to remark, "You know, Tauriel, you're far more exhausting than Rochanar. But again, what did we expect?" The lieutenants agreed with him by displaying two appreciative nods and one insecure grin.

"I'm taking it as a compliment," Tauriel retaliated, trying to hide her exhaustion behind a smile and thanking the Valar that she did not need to convince Alation and Glandir of anything they did not want to do – at least not that day.

* * *

><p>Half an hour later Tauriel entered the armoury to get her bow for her control trip to the forest. She was surprised not to find it empty at that time of the day and even more surprised to come across Sidhril, who was about to sharpen her knives.<p>

"Tauriel!" she exclaimed with a broad smile when she noticed her friend. "I haven't seen you in almost two weeks. If it weren't for all the reforms you're introducing to my daily duties, I wouldn't be sure you're still alive." She grinned and gave Tauriel a hug, which was not received altogether as happily as it should.

"Oh please, not you as well," Tauriel sighed.

"What do you mean?" Sidhril asked worriedly and let go of her.

Tauriel realised that her response had been inappropriate and apologised to her astonished friend, "I'm sorry, it's your remark about the reforms… The lieutenants are giving me quite a hard time about that and I… Well, I shouldn't take it out on you, sorry. So, how have you been?"

She forced her face to look cheerful and her voice to sound casual, but of course the attempt was not good enough for Sidhril. "Very well, thank you – as opposed to you, apparently." She tilted her head and assessed Tauriel from head to toe. "Forgive me for saying this, but you look about as vigorous as a water corpse. When was the last time you slept?"

Tauriel shrugged, failing to suppress the grin that tried to curl her lips at the macabre and very Sidhril-like metaphor. "I don't know, maybe two, three days ago… But I'm fine, really, don't worry!"

She advanced further into the labyrinth of shelves, racks and all sorts of storage devices. Sidhril followed her on the heels. "Stop!" she commanded and even though Tauriel had long been used to giving orders instead of receiving them, she obeyed immediately. Sidhril stepped in front of her and stated, "You're not fine. What's going on?" She put her hand on Tauriel's arm and the little gesture of support was enough to break the thick wall that was holding back all the accumulated frustration.

Tauriel sat down on a wooden chest full of quivers and covered her face with her hands. She could feel a tear form in the corner of her right eye and struggled in vain to fight back the ones that came after it. Sidhril sat down next to her and put her arm around her while Tauriel figured that it was too late to mind her composure anyway and let the tears flow.

After a while she took her hands off her face and wiped them dry on her trousers. She looked at Sidhril who showed her an insecure smile. "Is it anything in particular or just the whole captain situation in general?" she asked.

Tauriel let out a short chuckle and shook her head. "Well, life was certainly easier when all I had to do was kill things." She took a sudden interest in examining the stone floor, just to have somewhere to look, but after a short pause Sidhril's lack of answer made her continue, "I can't get the lieutenants to accept my ideas. They are going along with them, of course, but only because I happen to wear this darned badge. They refuse to consider that some changes may be necessary. I don't know if my ideas are simply stupid or if it's me they don't like…"

Sidhril interrupted her with a wave of her hand. "Don't you dare doubt yourself like that," she said firmly. "Your system works perfectly, as the Southern Division has proven within centuries. I'm proud of you and so is everyone in your old unit, even Fiondir. We're sticking with your system and it works for us. And as for the lieutenants, since when do you let those fellows intimidate you? The problem some people seem to have with your promotion..." Suddenly she paused, biting her lip awkwardly.

Tauriel sat up straight and asked her, "What problem? Go on, tell me!"

The doubt on Sidhril's face was as clear as daylight, but finally she replied, "It's a stupid rumour, nothing more. Some soldiers say that you were only made captain because of… you know, the prince."

Tauriel felt her face freeze for a moment. "Beg your pardon?" she exclaimed, clasping the edge of the wooden chest she was sitting on. She needed a while to process the information before she asked dryly, "Any particular noses I have to break to end this rumour?"

"I'm afraid it's just the usual vague gossip," Sidhril stated and tilted her head nervously. "You should try to ignore it and convince them that you don't need any favouritism to justify your promotion."

"You're right," Tauriel agreed and nodded, "Actually this is even one more reason to go through with my reforms. But seriously, of all possible rumours this is the most ridiculous idea I can imagine! Legolas didn't even want me to become captain – and he certainly doesn't support me now…"

Tauriel shook her head and got up at the sight of Sidhril's perplexed face.

Her friend followed her example and said immediately, "I see, now we're getting to it. I knew that three stubborn old lieutenants weren't enough to damp your spirits."

"As usual, you're right," Tauriel admitted, leaning against a shelf full of helmets. "Somehow Legolas and I do nothing but argue. He never seems to agree with anything I do. I feel terrible for having so little time for him, but sometimes I don't even want to talk to him anymore because I know it will only end in another fight." The tears tried to rise again, but this time Tauriel succeeded in holding them back.

Sidhril took a moment to think of an appropriate answer, then she said, "Maybe he feels redundant? With you pouring your heart and soul into your new tasks and turning the Woodland Guard upside down as if it were nothing but an hourglass, I could imagine that Legolas feels like you don't need him for anything."

Tauriel wanted to object, but the more she thought about it, the more logical Sidhril's point seemed to her. "I wish I could say that you were wrong, but it's actually very much like him," she conceded. Sidhril's usual 'I told you so' expression spread over her face and made Tauriel grin, although she still felt like crying.

"Thank you for listening to me," she said and gave her friend a hug. Suddenly she felt the overwhelming urge to get out of the gloomy armoury and breathe in some fresh air. She took her bow and quiver off a hook on the wall, said goodbye to Sidhril and left as quickly as she could.

* * *

><p>Despite the icy temperatures Tauriel felt twice as alive as she had in weeks while riding along the Old Path in direction of the place where the two Trolls had been spotted. She was accompanied by two soldiers of the Special Operations Unit and of course by Legolas. He was very quiet and focused on his surroundings. The Trolls seemed to worry him a great deal more than her – or, as Tauriel reasoned, maybe he simply did not wish to talk to her. Whenever the group passed one of the watch posts, Tauriel looked out for the guards who were supposed to be positioned there. Not much to her surprise, three times out of five she did not see anyone. 'Wonderful,' she thought, 'Eru help us if we do indeed meet those Trolls.'<p>

She threw a glance over to Legolas who was riding next to her and caught him returning the look more warmly than she had expected. "What?" she whispered, hoping to be quiet enough for the soldiers in front of them not to hear.

Instead of answering her immediately, Legolas gave her a nearly invisible smile. "You look tense," he whispered back, "but not half as tense as usually. You miss this, don't you?" His concern for her and his friendly tone managed to soothe the anger about their earlier disagreement during the meeting.

"I do miss the forest," she admitted. "I miss the cold and the boredom and the long nighttime patrols. I even miss the spiders, can you believe that?"

Legolas let out a short chuckle and nodded. "It doesn't surprise me." After a short pause he added, "Do you want to know what I miss?"

When she saw the way he was looking at her, Tauriel smiled involuntarily. "I know," she replied and felt a warmth rise in her chest that had not been there for quite a while. "I miss you too."

The small company passed through the settlement at the Lower Crossroads. Strangely enough there was not a living soul to be seen. Lots of broken things were lying around everywhere and the doors and windows of the small wooden houses were closed, but Tauriel could hear hushed voices coming from the inside. She signalled her companions to halt, got off her horse and knocked on one of the doors.

It was opened just enough for an elleth to peek through. When she saw that there was a soldier standing at her doorstep, she let out a sigh of relief and stepped outside. "Thank the Valar," she exclaimed, "I thought it was the beasts again!"

Tauriel blinked in astonishment, but before she could say anything, Legolas had already walked up to her and asked, "What beasts? Are you talking about the Trolls?"

At first the elleth was too stunned to answer at the sight of the prince addressing her, but after a moment she replied hesitantly, "Yes, Your Highness, Trolls it is. They came here about half an hour ago and tried to steal food from us – at least that's what I hope they wanted. Our three hunters chased them away and followed them into the forest while the rest of us, who cannot fight, locked ourselves into our houses."

Tauriel interrupted her, "Which direction did they go?"

"The crossroads, I think…"

Tauriel grabbed Legolas' arm, turned on her heels and pulled him with her. "Get off the horses!" she ordered the two soldiers who obliged her immediately and drew their bows.

"To the crossroads!" Legolas added before he turned back to the bewildered woman once more and said, "Go back inside and stay there until you receive further notice!" With that he vanished between the trees, followed by the guards.

Tauriel cursed silently while she drew her bow and entered the thick coppice. Trolls! Aggressive Trolls, for what it was worth! That alone was bad enough, but now they had to worry about three villagers who had been bold enough to attack the creatures. Granted, according to the woman they were hunters, but Trolls were not as easy to handle as boars or deer. And where in Manwë's name were the forest guards? Tauriel sensed that her explanation of the new watch post distribution might not have fallen on the most fertile ground with them. She rolled her eyes and grumbled a curse for real this time.

They did not have to go far until an overwhelming smell told them that the Trolls were near. Tauriel signalled the soldiers to stop and exchanged a look with Legolas.

"No attack!" he whispered in her ear. "We will try to talk to them."

Tauriel nodded. "Agreed, at least until we know what has become of the hunters. If they're safe, we may as well get rid of the Trolls."

"No!" Legolas objected. "Mountain Trolls are sentient beings, they can be reasoned with." Tauriel could see a flicker of annoyance in his eyes, an all too familiar sight.

She forced herself to stay calm, or relatively so. "They raided the village, for Eru's sake! They didn't show any civility themselves, so they don't deserve ours!"

Legolas was just opening his mouth to say something in return when an infernal cry cut through their argument and rendered all further discussions pointless. All four of them darted forward and after working their way through a few more feet of thorny shrubbery they found themselves in a clearing, small enough for the treetops to cover it, so that it was as dark as the rest of the forest.

The sight offered to her made Tauriel gasp: Two giant Trolls with leathery skin, legs as thick as tree trunks and hands the size of dwarven shields were stomping about in an attempt to capture an Elda who was trying to escape them by diving through their legs.

"Hey!" Tauriel shouted and caused the Trolls to spin around in awe. She could not help noticing how stupid they looked – except for their strangely bright yellow eyes that conveyed an inexplicable impression of malice that she had never seen with any Troll before. It made Tauriel sense trouble and she braced herself for a fight.

The Elda hunter seized the moment and fled, much to Tauriel's relief. When he vanished beneath the trees, she could hear two more voices, which reassured her that all three hunters were alive and off to safety.

The Trolls stared at the soldiers for a good while until they finally awoke from their trance and turned towards each other. However, they did not say anything and looked back at the guards again. Legolas glanced at Tauriel and signalled her to lower her bow. She obliged him reluctantly and shook her head internally while watching him address the creatures.

"You crossed the borders of the Woodland Realm without permission," he informed them in the Common Tongue, speaking very slowly and clearly. Tauriel rolled her eyes; telling them about laws would most certainly do the trick…

Legolas waited for a reaction, but the only response he got was a blank yellow stare. "Do you understand me?" he went on and took a few steps towards the Trolls. Tauriel and the soldiers followed at arm's length.

After another excruciatingly long silence that almost made Tauriel lose her patience and fire a warning arrow, the bigger Troll turned his ugly face to Legolas and said in a voice that sounded like a roll of thunder with a bad cold, "What are ya?" He pointed his thick finger first at the prince and then at the soldiers. "And whatya want?"

Legolas threw an almost triumphant look at Tauriel – that did not fail to infuriate her – before he replied politely, "We are Eldar of the Woodland Realm and we ask you to leave our land. We will grant you safe passage if you agree to…"

The second Troll interrupted Legolas' speech by stretching out his arm to reach for him. The prince jumped backwards and raised his hands defensively, while Tauriel and the soldiers got ready to shoot.

"Stop it!" the prince hissed at them, grabbing Tauriel's arm. "They're confused, that's all. Don't irritate them!" Tauriel made a grimace, but she lowered her bow again. To the Trolls Legolas continued, "This forest is dangerous and we are offering you to lead you out of it." Tauriel let out a deep breath of despair that earned her a glare from Legolas and two sympathetic glances from the guards.

Now the Troll who had spoken before slapped his companion on the back and whispered to him very loudly, "Oy! What's this lil fella talking about?"

"Dunno, brother" the shorter one gave back. They both scratched their heads and Tauriel could see a substantial amount of dandruff fall on their shoulders.

She looked at Legolas, who was obviously starting to lose his composure at the sheer stupidity of the creatures. She leaned over to him and said, "See? You can't reason with them. Let's not waste any more time!"

She readied herself to shoot, causing the Trolls to glare at her hostilely, but the prince tightened his grip on her arm. "Tauriel, I'm serious! We're not attacking them!"

"Your strategy isn't working too well, is it?" she gave back furiously. "Besides, whose responsibility is it to deal with intruders?"

"Why yours, Captain," Legolas snarled with an arched eyebrow, "and if you had fulfilled it correctly in the first place, we would not even be here now."

At that point Tauriel would have punched him if there had not been a series of incidents to prevent it. One of the Trolls, probably irritated by their aggressive tone, took a few quick steps towards the Eldar and waved a large knife at them that he had produced from his enormous pocket. The two soldiers immediately raised their bows and Tauriel shouted "Fire!" whereas Legolas hissed "Halt!"

The soldiers shot – in case of doubt they always sided with the one who would punish them for disobedience – but in the middle of all that confusion one of the arrows went completely astray and the other only hit the bigger Troll's upper arm. He did not seem too impressed by it; he plucked it out of his thick skin like a fir needle. But when he held it in his hand and looked down on it, he suddenly narrowed his tiny yellow eyes and gave a low growl. The second Troll slowly realised what had happened to his brother and joined the outrage by letting out a shrill shriek.

"Still in the mood to chat?" Tauriel asked Legolas with as much sarcasm as she could muster while simultaneously aiming at the shorter Troll, who was coming towards them. Legolas' only response was a furious snort while he drew his bow as well. "Ready!" Tauriel ordered the soldiers, "Charge!"

Three arrows flew towards the smaller Troll, but he was surprisingly quick and ducked away. In the meantime the bigger one ripped a young tree out of the ground and used it to swipe over the forest floor. It was at least nine feet long and had lots of large branches, so it took the Eldar quite a bit of coordination to avoid it.

"Etheldir!" Tauriel addressed one of the soldiers. "The small one!" He nodded and followed her around the sweeping tree in a convenient moment. Tauriel threw a look back at Legolas and the other guard. She trusted her soldier, and as for the prince, in that moment she figured that he deserved every bruise and every broken bone that might be in store for him.

The short Troll waved his knife at the two Eldar and did not allow them to come near him. Tauriel shot another arrow at his head, which missed its aim again due to the Troll's quick reaction. 'Excellent reflexes,' she admitted to herself, 'Whoever created the Trolls, they did some impressive work.'

The creature gave another one of his deafening shrieks and darted forward to stab Etheldir with his knife. The soldier let him come as close as possible and jumped to the side in the very last moment. The Troll had not expected to catch nothing but thin air and could not stop fast enough. He bumped into the trees at the edge of the clearing, knocking over two or three of them by his sheer body weight.

Etheldir took the opportunity to throw one of his daggers towards the back of the Troll's knee. It hit the aim and made him hiss in pain and surprise. His leg gave way, he fell against the trees and dropped his knife. Etheldir was there in the blink of an eye and kicked it out of the Troll's reach. The creature's huge hand, however, gave a sweep and knocked him off his feet, throwing him against a tree. The Troll tried to get back up on one leg and turned around slowly.

"Don't you dare, you ugly beast!" was the last thing he heard before Tauriel's arrow pierced his eye. He fell flat on the ground, causing a small earthquake and a roar of shock and fury from the other Troll.

Tauriel turned towards the creature and saw that his body was already pierced by several arrows; despite his size, his reflexes were apparently as quick as his brother's. Legolas and the guard had engaged him in some sort of a dance, as Tauriel associated immediately at the sight of the strange trio walking back and forth and around each other in circles. She could not help but grin at the amusing image.

Etheldir came running towards her, wiping Troll blood off his dagger. "Are you injured?" Tauriel asked him.

"No," he replied and after a confused look at her lacking intention to join the ongoing fight he added, "Shouldn't we interfere?"

Tauriel gave her old comrade a grin. "Fine, you're right. But aren't they a lovely set of dancers?" Etheldir smirked, then he started in direction of the Troll.

The next instant Tauriel saw something that made her heart skip a beat: Legolas was aiming at the Troll's face and had a fair chance of succeeding this time because the creature was busy trying to crush the other soldier with the ripped out tree. Suddenly the beast noticed the approaching Etheldir, changed his mind and swept the tree towards him with all the strength his massive arms possessed. What was standing in the way, however, was Legolas, still focused on his aim. He saw the danger in the last moment and tried to get away, but it was too late. The branches hit him with full force and buried him.

Tauriel heard herself gasp. The Troll lifted the tree high above his head, only to see that Legolas was holding on to it, so he slammed it down once more, and then a third and a fourth time. For the few seconds that the horrific spectacle lasted, Tauriel felt like her feet were glued to the ground and in her mind she begged every Vala for mercy. But when the Troll lifted the tree again, she seized the moment and dived between his gigantic legs, slicing the thick skin of his calves with both her daggers.

The Troll tumbled and Tauriel would have been trampled if the two soldiers had not come around the beast, grabbed his loincloth and started pulling him backwards. One of his massive feet hit the ground a few inches away from Tauriel. She looked up to the tree trunk that he was still holding and from the corner of her eyes she saw how Legolas waited for the right moment and then let go of the branch he had grabbed. He landed on the Troll's shoulders and thrust one of his knives into his neck.

The creature roared and bucked, trying to catch the attacker and crush him with his large hands. Legolas jumped back down and drew his bow while Etheldir applied his established strategy and stabbed the back of the Troll's knee, bringing him down to all fours. Legolas' arrow pierced his throat and after one more angry growl the creature collapsed.

Tauriel caught her breath, sheathed her daggers and looked at the two dead Troll bodies. It was unusual for mountain Trolls to be as aggressive as these two had been. In general they were a stupid but not malicious race and if it had been her choosing she would have preferred to simply force them out of the forest instead of massacring them.

Tauriel's eyes wandered to her companions. The two guards seemed to be unharmed – Legolas, however, did not look too content. He was bleeding from a long scratch across his face and rubbed his right arm with a grimace of pain. Tauriel wanted to hug him and slap him at the same time; hug him to celebrate the fact that he was alive and slap him because his lunatic idea to reason with the Trolls had started the mess in the first place. Tauriel's own stubbornness and their resulting discussion had contributed as well, as she could not deny, but still, she was the captain and he should not have undermined her tactics! She threw him a glare as if to reassure herself to be in the right and signalled the soldiers to follow her back to the village.

* * *

><p>"My lord, I assure you that this incident was a unique faux pas and nothing of the kind will ever happen again." Tauriel tried to swallow the lump in her throat, but it would not go away. The king's cold, piercing stare and his whole intimidating presence made her feel like a helpless little girl.<p>

Thranduil took a few slow steps towards Tauriel and she wanted nothing more than flee. Yet she had to stay still like one of the marble statues portraying the Valar that adorned the walls of the antechamber adjoined to the king's private quarters, where he used to hold all semi-official audiences that did not require the decorum of the large throne room. Tauriel had been summoned to report to him about the Troll incident, but she sensed that he already knew exactly what the real underlying problem was. Indeed he cut straight to the point.

"I understand that those Trolls had been wandering the forest for several days and assaulted a settlement before you eliminated them." It was not a question.

Tauriel forced herself to look at the king when she answered, "Yes, my lord. Four days, to be precise."

"And how is that possible?" he went on in an almost soothing tone that made Tauriel's blood freeze. "As far as I recall, the Woodland Realm possesses two Border Guard divisions and a Forest Guard for the exact purpose of preventing intruders from entering our land."

Tauriel was sure that her cheeks would burst into flames any moment. Was her own guilt about the whole situation not punishment enough already? "I effected some changes in the distribution of the watch posts, my lord," she explained, cursing her voice for trembling. "The soldiers may not be used to it yet…" She knew how weak her excuse sounded, but she did not want to admit that the source of the problem did not lie with the soldiers themselves but with the lieutenants – whose reluctance to accept her authority might in turn be due to Tauriel's connection to the prince.

There was a substantial silence before the king chose to respond. He folded his hands behind his back – not the worst sign at least, as Tauriel had learned from her own observations within the past four months. "Captain," he finally said calmly, "you may introduce whatever innovations you deem necessary. You may even have the guards carry lyres and flutes instead of weapons if it benefits their efficiency – I will not care. But as soon as the safety of my people is compromised by your inability to get your subordinates in line, you shall be held responsible for every damage you cause." He had come closer to her while speaking and by the end of his last sentence his voice had shifted from a neutral tone to a menacing whisper.

Tauriel gulped heavily and answered, "Yes, my lord. I will see to it."

The king assessed her critically once more, then he took a step back and Tauriel could almost feel a part of the tension fall off her shoulders at the mere loss of physical proximity. The king turned away from her and seemed to study the features of one of the statues. Tauriel did not know what to do, so she simply fixed her gaze on the back of his head.

"Legolas mentioned that the two of you had a disagreement on the appropriate course of action regarding the Trolls," he said casually, still not facing her.

Tauriel's jaw clenched for a moment and she stated to herself, 'Did he indeed – I should have known it.' To the king she replied, "The prince thought it best to speak to the Trolls and convince them to leave our land on friendly terms. I, however, took their raiding the settlement as an indication for their violent nature and voted for an attack."

The king turned around and to Tauriel's bewilderment she saw a smirk in the corner of his mouth while his eyes remained cold. "You are the Captain of the Guard, so you have the last word in any matters of defence. I advised my son to trust your judgement."

Tauriel did not know what to respond; she was too busy wrapping her mind around what she had just heard. Why would the king care whether or not Legolas agreed with her? And why, by all the Valar, should he side with her instead of his own son? A slow nod was all she could think of as a reply.

The king gave her a last investigative glance before he said, "Captain, I expect you to sort out the problem of the watch posts before the week is out. We cannot afford any Trolls or other malevolent creatures to cross our borders. You may be dismissed." Tauriel took a short bow and left the room as quickly as her professional dignity allowed it.

* * *

><p>Legolas was standing by the fireplace in his chamber and warming his hands when he heard a knock at the door. Surprised at the late visitor, he called "Enter!" and turned around. A moment later Tauriel burst into the room, displaying an expression of pure annoyance and obviously intending to throw all of it at him. 'What a shame,' he thought to himself, 'It's the first time in the whole week that she comes to visit me here and now she's in such a bad mood.'<p>

Tauriel planted herself in front of him with her arms crossed and her lips tightened. "I'm in trouble, aren't I?" Legolas could not refrain from saying and although he tried desperately, he did not quite manage to get rid of his smirk.

Tauriel breathed deeply and hissed, "That depends on whether or not you can give me an understandable explanation for the whole 'talk to the Trolls' business. Do you have any idea how dangerous your little experiment was? And in case you haven't noticed it yet, gaining my soldiers' respect is hard enough for me as it is, so I really don't need you to contradict me all the time. Like this morning, during the meeting, I mean that wasn't even…"

"Tauriel!" he interrupted her firmly. "You may want to calm down before we discuss any further." He was not in the mood for one of her outbursts.

"I will calm down as soon as you tell me what it is that constantly urges you to undermine my decisions!" it came back.

Legolas let out a deep sigh and gave her an exhausted look. "Would you stop generalising? I only undermine your decisions if they deserve it." He regretted his phrasing the very moment the words left his lips. Tauriel's face became completely vacant and he could see her fists clench. 'May the games begin,' he caught himself thinking with equal parts of resignation and amusement.

Tauriel took a few slow but determined steps towards him and said very calmly, "Tell me, Legolas, do you want to convince me that I am incompetent or do you need to convince yourself that you are not?" Now it was Legolas' turn to stare at Tauriel in awe. He felt a wave of anger boil up inside him – not at the absurdity of Tauriel's words, but at their accuracy. He would never have admitted it to her, but she had managed to put her finger right on the sorest possible spot.

He forced himself to breath calmly. "Well, granted, I am a little… irritated at the way you change the whole defence system without so much of a word. Without… consulting anyone who might give you advice. But I guess you wouldn't take it anyway, would you?"

"Why would I?" Tauriel spat back at him.

Legolas could not help but stop and admire how beautiful she looked in that moment – as radiant as the sun and just as dangerous if anyone came too close. Suddenly, out of nowhere, he felt the desire to get burnt.

"Because there are people around you who have a hundred times more experience than you," he pointed out dryly. "But no, Captain Tauriel does it her own way, whether it's wise or not, right?" He arched an eyebrow and gave her a challenging look dripping with sarcasm.

It took a few seconds for Legolas' words to provoke a reaction, but then it burst out of Tauriel like a volcano of red-hot rage. "Do you even hear yourself talking? Has it ever occurred to you that radical innovation might be just what this rusty old guard needs? I am deeply sorry to scratch your sense of superiority, meleth nín. There are things creeping through our homeland that may not fit into your sheltered Sindarin worldview, but I intend to protect my people, whatever the cost." Legolas was impressed at his own self-control that stopped him from yelling right back at her. How dare she!

While speaking, Tauriel had approached him slowly. She was standing right in front of him and it did not take more than a whisper for him to understand her, but she had been shouting nevertheless. She was fuming with rage – and yet Legolas detected something in her expression that left him in no doubt that she was not at all as repulsed by him in that moment as she pretended. 'That makes two of us,' he stated to himself.

Tauriel obviously read his thought from his face because suddenly her expression turned from pure condescension to condescension mingled with affection. "I hate you right now," she whispered while she brought her face closer to his, "and myself, but mostly you."

Legolas felt his mouth curl into a smirk. "So do I," he gave back while putting his arms around her waist and closing the remaining gap between them. "Stubborn Silvan peasant!"

"Self-righteous Sindarin snob!" Tauriel whispered before he silenced her by almost biting her lip and kissing her a little more roughly than intended. Tauriel did not seem to mind, in fact she was not too gentle with him either.

'This is not good at all, it won't resolve anything and we'll continue arguing just like before,' Legolas' mind tried to reason with him, but Tauriel's hands holding him close and her body pressed against him did not leave a lot of room for reasonable objections. In fact, he was sure that she shared his concern, but considering how much both of them were craving any kind of interaction that did not involve yelling, neither one made an effort to be rational.


	18. Ginger Roots

A cloud of sweet-smelling steam emerged from the teapot and Nimiel breathed in the refreshing scent of ginger when she poured a cup for her daughter. "Thank you," Tauriel said with a bright smile and took the cup from her. Nimiel had not seen her smile so genuinely in weeks and noticed the change happily. Obviously the journey Tauriel had just returned from had been a welcome diversion. Nimiel sat down at her kitchen table between Amril and Tauriel and started stirring her own tea.

Amril had a bit of a struggle with his teacup because both his hands were wrapped in thick bandages that smelled of camomile. Nimiel did not even ask him about the injury the linen was covering – she refused to worry about the painful consequences of his self-experiments. If he was so eager to find new remedies instead of relying on the long-established and sacred ways of healing, then it was only fair for him to deal with all the burn blisters, rashes and nausea his spirit of discovery inflicted on him. She looked back and forth between her two children and could not help smiling. 'I raised two adventurers, although I always intended the opposite,' she thought to herself.

"So, my little sister has been to Erebor and survived the Dwarves." Amril addressed Tauriel with a grin that was both irony and admiration. "What was it like under all those rocks?"

"Scary!" Tauriel gave back while carefully trying to take a tiny sip of the hot tea and giving up after burning her lips twice. "I forced myself not to think about the mountain above my head, supported by constructions of Dwarven craftsmanship, or else I would have panicked the whole time. To think that they have carved all those huge halls and giant pillars out of the stone, twice as high as the most ancient trees in the forest… It is impressive, but I still prefer our natural caves because if Aule made them himself, at least they won't collapse."

Nimiel grinned into her teacup. "Did you see the Dwarf lord?" she wanted to know. Meeting the monarch had been King Thranduil's sole purpose in undertaking the journey to Erebor and if he bothered to leave his realm and visit a Dwarf, the situation could indeed be called urgent.

Tauriel nodded and rolled her eyes simultaneously. "Thrór – oh yes, we did! Such an arrogant, ostentatious, pretentious son of a Dwa-… well, obviously. But in all honesty, he was not cooperative at all. The king was given a grand total of ten minutes to speak to him and the Dwarves did not even listen to what he had to say. Instead they had the nerve to mock him!"

"What?" Nimiel could not stop herself from interjecting a bit too vividly. At least she managed not to spill her tea. She knew exactly how little the king cared for Dwarves. Hearing that he had been openly antagonised after finally deciding to approach them and warn them about the danger they might be attracting made Nimiel feel protective and furious at the same time.

Tauriel threw her mother a surprised glance, but then she explained, "They showed him a box of white gems and when he went closer to take a look, the Dwarf slammed it shut and almost crushed the king's fingers under the lid. If they had not made us hand in our weapons…"

"Then Tauriel would have provoked a war," Amril chuckled and was joined by his mother.

Tauriel waved her finger at him and gave back, "I probably would. I felt terrible for the king. Seeing all the gold those Dwarves are hoarding under their mountain really worried him. I overheard him trying to reason with one of Thrór's counsellors – I think his name was Balin or something alike and he was a little more sensible than the rest of them. Anyway, when our king spoke of his own experiences with the dragons of the North, he looked downright terrified and something quite disturbing happened to his face for a second or two."

Nimiel gulped and remembered the day Thranduil had returned from the War of the Last Alliance with half his skin and most of his spirit destroyed by the dragon fire. Suddenly she felt the urge to beg every Vala to protect the people of the Woodland Realm. She took a big sip of hot tea and the painful sensation of a burnt tongue numbed her fear for the moment.

"So seventeen days with the king did not drive you insane," she remarked with a smile. "You seemed quite concerned before your departure."

Tauriel rolled her eyes once again. "I assure you, it took an effort at least as big as Erebor – and I couldn't drink wine on duty, which made it even more challenging. How have you endured him for six thousand years without poisoning him?"

Amril snorted into his cup and Nimiel could only just refrain from giving him a knock with her teaspoon. To Tauriel she pointed out, "Oh, I wanted to, more than once. But if you had known his father, you would be surprised how well our king has turned out."

"He's certainly not the easiest person to be trapped in a Dwarven mine with, but at least he doesn't have an armoured beard," Tauriel remarked dryly and finished her tea in one gulp with an expression of horrified memory. Neither Nimiel nor Amril asked for an explanation for that grotesque notion.

"Speaking of kings," Amril quickly changed the subject, "Legolas exceeded all our expectations as a substitute ruler. He managed the realm as if he had never done anything else. It was quite impressive, wasn't it, Naneth?"

Nimiel nodded. "Indeed it was. He seemed in his element."

"I'm glad to hear it," Tauriel interjected with a hint of awkwardness in her voice. She took up her empty cup pointlessly and set it down again.

Nimiel suppressed a frown. Not only had she not seen Tauriel and Legolas together in half an eternity, now it even made her daughter uncomfortable to speak of him. She asked carefully, "You have seen him since your return, haven't you?"

Tauriel's face cringed slightly. "Not yet." She took a sudden interest in the carving on her teaspoon, avoiding her mother's look.

Nimiel sighed internally. It pained her to see Tauriel and Legolas, who had been inseparable for centuries, going through such a challenging time. Since Tauriel's promotion their relationship had gone from one argument after another to something that could be described most accurately as helpless resignation and it seemed to weigh on them even more than the constant quarrels. Nimiel never inquired directly, but she knew Legolas and Tauriel well enough to understand that both of them were suffering, but their own Eru-forsaken stubbornness kept them from resolving their issues.

Tauriel managed to turn her grimace into a forced smile. "I've only been back for half a day," she pointed out, obviously looking for a way to redirect the conversation. "Which reminds me, Amril, have you found time to restock the Guard's spider poison remedy supply, like I asked you before I left?"

Nimiel closed her eyes for a brief moment and caught her mind speaking a curse that she would never have said aloud. Shaking her head ever so slightly, she went back to stirring her tea in silence.

* * *

><p>"Ion nín?" Thranduil addressed his son, who was sitting at the opposite side of the dinner table with an absent look on his face. Legolas gave a start on hearing his father call him. His mind was far away, more precisely it lingered wherever Tauriel might be. He had not seen her since her return and, truth be told, that was not entirely due to chance. He was putting off the reunion on purpose because he had no idea how to approach Tauriel at the moment.<p>

Somehow – he did not even know how exactly – their relationship had taken a turn to the worst possible state. The frequent quarrels had been bearable because at least they indicated that both of them cared about each other's opinions. Now, however, they did not even bother to argue anymore. Instead they simply did their respective duties and tried not to get in each other's way.

Legolas felt that Tauriel had gradually turned into a different person since she had taken over the Woodland Guard a few years ago. He admired the dedicated and uncompromising captain she had become, but at the same time he feared that there was neither room nor need for him in her life anymore. Sometimes he even felt inferior, which was something he could not easily cope with under any circumstances. He knew that if he told her, she would explain to him how unnecessary his concern was, but he could not silence the niggling feeling of insecurity and frustration.

He had tried to come to terms with it for a long time, telling himself that every person and every relationship changed over the years. He would always love Tauriel for whoever she was and he knew that she felt the same way about him, but it was a different kind of affection than before. They had drifted apart without even noticing and reached a point where neither of them had the strength or the will to fight anymore.

Legolas sensed that things could not go on like this for much longer and that he and Tauriel needed to have a serious crisis talk rather sooner than later. On the one hand he desperately wanted to clarify the situation, on the other hand he was terrified of the outcome, however inevitable it seemed. His confusion was beyond words and so he had not even tried to explain to his father that he would have preferred to spend the evening by himself.

"You seem distressed," the king remarked and with a glance at Legolas' nearly untouched plate he added, "Are you unwell?"

The prince shook his head. "No, there is no need to worry," he gave back and forced himself to take a bite of bread. While he was chewing, it seemed to double in size in his mouth. He finally managed to swallow it and washed it down with a sip of water. His father was still assessing him sceptically.

"I was merely pondering the situation in Erebor," Legolas made a desperate attempt to distract the king.

Thranduil took up his glass and swirled it, lost in his own thoughts, before he answered, "We have to be very vigilant."

Legolas' mind managed to focus on the new topic of conversation he had just introduced and he asked his father, "What would we do if the Dwarven gold did indeed attract… a dragon? Do you even think that there are any of them left?"

"I do not know," Thranduil replied in a slightly husky voice. "There may still be a few alive, in the North. All we can do is to be on our guard and make sure all our people are brought to safety, should the worst possible case occur."

"You mean evacuate the whole forest?" The notion was strange enough to draw his thoughts away from his private concerns for the present moment.

"And take them to the caves," the king affirmed.

Legolas wondered, "How would that work? Dragons are quite fast, I understand…" "We can rely on more efficient sources of information than the Dwarves and Edain," Thranduil pointed out. "Birds, bees, anything that flies can warn us. I have made according arrangements. As soon as we receive notice – may the Valar prevent it – the Guard will evacuate the settlements. The captain is informed and will prepare the soldiers. Has she not told you yet?"

There went Legolas' whole effort to take his mind off Tauriel for a few minutes. Apparently his face reflected his thoughts because the king gave him a frown. "Do not tell me you had another argument with her!" he snapped with more than a hint of annoyance in his voice.

Legolas quickly shook his head. "No, I have not spoken to her at all until now." Many times before the king had reprimanded him for letting his personal differences with Tauriel affect their respective duties and Legolas could not deny that their colliding ideas had indeed led to more than one critical incident. He stuffed another piece of bread into his mouth as an excuse for his silence on the matter.

The king, however, did not seem willing to drop the subject yet. "Legolas, within the last few months I could not help noticing that both you and the captain were quite… distracted whenever you had one of your disagreements. I do not wish to remind you again and again that as the prince of this realm you are expected to behave professionally." Legolas cringed internally at his father's severe tone. He opened his mouth to answer, but Thranduil was not done yet. "I do not know if you are aware of the rumours that are circulating at the palace regarding you and the captain."

The prince almost choked on his mouthful of bread. "What rumours are you referring to?" he inquired with as much dignity as he could master – it was not much, he had to admit.

The king arched an eyebrow and his look pierced right through Legolas' mind. How he hated when his father did that! "There are some who whisper that Tauriel earned her position not only by her merits as a soldier but also by her connection to you," Thranduil pointed out with no emotion whatsoever, "a connection of questionable decency."

Legolas felt his stomach cramp in both embarrassment and anger. "Uhm…" was the only answer he could provide. Why, by all the giant spiders and black butterflies in the forest, did his father have to pick this particular moment to bring up the subject?

"I understand your indignation at such ridiculous gossip," the king continued with a smile on his lips that did not reach his eyes and made Legolas' hair stand on end. Thranduil raised his glass and took all the time in the world to empty it before he remarked as casually as if he were speaking about the weather, "If there was the slightest possibility of those rumours having a germ of truth to them – let us say the captain taking advantage of your long-standing friendship and making an unseemly advance on you – then I would of course be forced to remove her from duty immediately. Which would be a shame because she has turned out rather splendidly and seems very committed to her tasks."

The pause that followed, accompanied by a quizzical glance, left Legolas in no doubt that this was not a hypothetical rambling but a most serious warning, if not a blatant threat. The prince knew his father well enough to get the hint and he was wise enough not to reply anything, although he felt his fingers twitch in a sudden urge to break something.

The king allowed a somewhat warmer smile to spread over his face while he concluded graciously, "Fortunately for everyone involved, those rumours obviously lack foundation. So the captain need not fear for her position and you need not worry about your reputation." It was a plain and simple order from king to subject, hidden under the cloak of well-meaning fatherly concern, but not allowing the slightest objection.

Legolas' mind was screaming and slamming its imaginary fists against the inside of his skull. Did his own doubts about his relationship with Tauriel not provide enough trouble? Only the Valar knew how he managed to stay calm and endure the rest of the dinner.

* * *

><p>The sun was just rising when Legolas entered the captain's office while turning the pages of the leather-bound journal in his hands. He had hardly slept the night before, but he wanted to bring the Guard-related paperwork in order before the captain took up her usual duties again. Where in Eru's name had he put the piece of paper with last week's reports of the Special Operations Unit? Tauriel would behead him if he messed up the paperwork during her absence, so he should better find it before she…<p>

"Legolas!" The voice that had called his name countless times before made his heart stop for a second and he almost dropped the journal.

"Oromë's horn! You scared me, Tauriel" he said and forced a grin.

"Sorry," she simply replied and gave him an insecure smile.

So there she was. He had not expected fireworks of emotion, but seeing her again after her seventeen day journey and not feeling any excitement at all still came as a bit of a shock to him. He quickly scanned her face and sensed that she was pondering more or less the same thoughts.

"Welcome home," Legolas managed to say. He took a few steps towards Tauriel and put his arms around her. She let it happen, but it took her a little too long to return the gesture. 'What in the foul names of all the Balrogs of Morgoth has happened to us?' Legolas asked himself silently while pulling Tauriel close and placing a kiss on her mouth that was more an act of courtesy than of heartfelt affection. The touch of her hands, the scent of her hair, the warmth of her lips – everything seemed strange, even wrong.

"How did you like Erebor?" Legolas asked, knowing exactly how forced his voice sounded.

Tauriel shrugged and made an effort to look cheerful. "Well, you know, rocks, Dwarves, gold… Your father has certainly informed you about the outcome of his diplomatic effort, hasn't he?"

"Yes, indeed he has," Legolas answered quickly and vaguely remembered to display the appropriate concerned face.

"Amril and Nimiel told me that you outdid yourself as a part-time king," Tauriel remarked.

This time it was Legolas' turn to shrug. "I mostly watched everything functioning the way it always does," he gave back. "Not even the Guard required a lot of interference. No casualties, by the way, they all managed to stay alive during your absence." He smirked half-heartedly and clasped the journal as if to reassure himself.

"Perfect," Tauriel replied and took the leather-bound book from his hands. She turned around, picked up a piece of paper from the table and placed it between the journal's pages.

"Oh, I've been looking for this," Legolas pointed out unnecessarily on recognising the missing report.

There was a long silence after that – he could not determine if it lasted a minute or a decade. He contemplated Tauriel's face full of helplessness, her hands that still held the journal, her hair that fell around her shoulders as tangled and messy as always. He had seen all of that a thousand times before and he knew that she would always be his Tauriel, the girl he had known for almost his entire life, but in that moment he was looking at a stranger. He felt a lump in his throat.

Finally a movement went through Tauriel's straight posture. She took a deep breath and without any warning whatsoever she burst into tears. Legolas was shocked for a moment because of all the things he would have expected, he had not seen that coming.

After forcing his mind to function again, he walked towards her and carefully touched her hand that was covering her face. He did not have to ask what was wrong and she knew she did not need to tell him. Apparently the decision when to bring up the inevitable subject had just been taken from him.

They simply stood there in silence until Tauriel regained control of her voice and whispered to the floor, "I didn't even miss you while I was gone."

Legolas gulped heavily and replied, "I know. Neither did I."

Tauriel's fingers lightly brushed his hand that was resting on the edge of the table. "Is there anything left that we can do?"

"I don't know," was all Legolas could say. He knew exactly what the answer was, and so did Tauriel, judging from the look on her face, but neither of them could bring themselves to say it out loud.

"Why?" Tauriel simply asked and looked straight into Legolas' face.

He took a while to ponder his reply, but there was no way he could make it less painful. "You're not the girl I fell in love with anymore," he finally said, "and I'm not strong enough to deal with that. I love and admire the person you have become, the fearless warrior and captain, but most of the time she's a stranger to me. I know how important your duty is to you and pouring your heart and soul into it is the only right way to do it, I suppose. Still, I feel like you're drifting further away from me every day. And suddenly all the other issues we've always had and ignored seem to become insuperable." He heard the echo of his words in his head and as much as he had wanted to speak them for a long time, as much he regretted them now because it felt like the final push that initiated an unstoppable fall.

Tauriel nodded slowly. She did not look surprised. "It is true. I have changed, whereas you are still the same person you have always been. And you're right, we were quite successful in pushing away our differences as long as we could tell ourselves that we were in love. You will always want to marry and have children and the last thing I would do is force you to renounce your notion of happiness. Even if we ignore the fact that your father would never tolerate it, I would be a horrible wife for a prince, let alone a happy one. I will always want to be a warrior. It is who I am and I would rather die on the battlefield than have it taken from me." Legolas remembered what his father had said the night before and the lump in his throat doubled in size.

"Either way one of us would wake up one morning with a heart full of regret," Tauriel concluded. Legolas felt his hand cramp around the edge of the table. Her words sliced through him like knives and yet they could have been his own.

"So, does that mean that we're admitting defeat?" he asked cluelessly. Tauriel was struggling not to start crying again, so her only answer was a nod.

The world seemed to stop turning for an instant as the realisation of what was happening slowly dripped into Legolas' consciousness. He wanted to scream, but at the same time he felt strangely relieved. "We don't know what the future may bring…" he uttered helplessly, not knowing why he was saying it. Probably it was just a way of soothing his own sudden panic.

Tauriel took his hand and gave him a sad but peaceful smile. He returned it and wiped a tear off her cheek. "We'll probably need some time to process this," she finally suggested.

Legolas nodded. "Certainly. Don't worry, I'll stay out of your way for a while."

Tauriel looked to the ground, then back up at him for one more moment, and without another word she made her way out of the office. Legolas stayed immobile for a while, his eyes fixed on the door she had closed behind her and his head completely empty.


	19. Black Crows

Tauriel's footsteps on the polished marble floor echoed in the dark corridor as she rushed to the throne room, following the guard who had been sent to summon her. The urgency in his voice and the worried look on his face had left her in no doubt that the king had a serious issue to discuss with her, so she braced herself for whatever unsettling news she might receive. Two women hurried in the opposite direction and nearly bumped into her while whispering hectically to each other. She threw them a glare, but neither of them even noticed it.

The soldier directed her across the bridge carved from a giant petrified tree root that led towards the throne. Passing the other two watchmen in parade armour, who were positioned on either side of it, Tauriel could not help but pity them. She remembered when she had been in their place many years ago. It was as fatiguing as it was pointless to wear full armour when simply standing around in the palace, and so one of her first advances as captain had been the attempt to abolish that custom. Thranduil, however, had insisted on maintaining it. It was tradition – period. Tauriel rolled her eyes internally.

She noticed the soldiers' sloppy postures just before they snapped to attention under her gaze, without her giving so much of a blink. 'Not bad,' she stated to herself with a hint of pride.

Tauriel could see the king sitting upright under the huge antlers that adorned the backrest of his throne. He was not looking at her, instead he was speaking to his son, who was standing next to him and showing a no less concerned expression than Thranduil himself.

Tauriel felt her jaw clench. The truth was that neither she nor Legolas felt very comfortable around each other since they had decided to end their amorous relationship and go back to being friends. Friends – Tauriel's lips curled scornfully at the thought. She wished to Eru that someday she would be able to be herself around Legolas again instead of carefully weighing every word and every gesture in his presence, like she had done for the last few months. He displayed the exact same awkwardness towards her and it stung her like a morgul blade every time she realised it.

They both agreed that they had made the right decision – and still Tauriel craved Legolas' proximity and missed everything about him, most of all the feeling of having a confidant who knew her thoughts and feelings almost as well as she did. They were approaching each other slowly and trying to overcome all the memories that were still keeping them apart. They would get there one day, Tauriel was sure of it.

For now she simply gave him a nearly invisible smile while coming to a stand in front of the throne and bowing to the king. "My lord," she addressed him, scanning his face for an explanation to the strange situation.

He spared her the trouble by omitting any requirements of protocol and cutting straight to the point, "Captain, it is time to execute the evacuation plan."

That was all he said and his expression was all but neutral, yet Tauriel could see the tension underneath his royal bearing and a carefully suppressed flicker of terror in his eyes.

The words took a moment to reach her, but when they did, her heart seemed to skip a beat. "Are you saying that…" it escaped her before she could stop herself.

The king interrupted her, "I am. The crows of Ered Mithrin sent word that a great fire drake has awoken in the Withered Heath and set his eyes southward. He could be halfway to Erebor by now, so time is of the essence."

Tauriel gulped and resisted the urge to rush out of the throne room immediately. "What about the guards?" she asked, failing to control the tremble in her voice. "Are they to be removed from the forest as well, or just the villagers? Considering the dragon's likely route, the Southern Border Guard is hardly in any danger…"

"Everyone!" the king interjected firmly. "Not one Elda will remain outside these walls."

"My lord, if we remove the watch from the southern border, the forest will be swarmed by spiders within three days," Tauriel pointed out. She knew she was walking on thin ice, but it was her task to keep every security issue in mind.

Legolas threw her an alarmed glance and shook his head ever so slightly. Tauriel grasped the hint, but even if she had been willing to drop her concern, it would have been too late.

The king leaned forward on his seat and fixed her with his gaze. "Captain, you heard my order," he said slowly, in a voice so calm and cold that Tauriel lost any inclination to argue further. "You may be dismissed."

She grumbled internally in utter frustration. Very well, she would remove the guards if he insisted – hopefully even the spiders would sense the dragon's presence and be too scared to crawl out of their hiding places.

Tauriel straightened her posture and bowed her head. "I shall see it done." With another look at Legolas, whose right eye was twitching uncomfortably, she turned on her heels and started in direction of the bridge.

Halfway down the stairs in front of the throne, another thought crossed her mind. She froze in the middle of her movement, pondered her options for an instant and decided to address the king once again.

She walked back towards him, ignoring Legolas' look of disagreement, and said, "Forgive me… I am sure a warning has already been sent to the Men of Dale and the Dwarves of Erebor?" She was not sure at all and the king's reaction proved her right.

He cleared his throat and arched an eyebrow. "There is neither time nor need. They have brought this evil upon themselves. Now see to your task!"

Tauriel frowned, staying immobile. Legolas made no effort to hide his grimace anymore, but she did not care. "With all due respect, my lord," she stated as firmly as her agitation allowed it, "we cannot leave them unwarned! Not all of them are guilty of greed and carelessness. Most of them are as innocent as they are defenceless. There are children and old people…"

"Tauriel, enough!" the king raised his voice and got up from his throne. "Even if we sent a messenger to Dale, it would be too late by then. The Men and Dwarves are doomed and there is nothing we can do about it. Your responsibility is to bring our people to safety – now leave and prove yourself to be a captain worthy of your title!" These words said, the king turned away from her and descended the stairs on the other side of the throne. Tauriel was left speechless, disbelief and rage fighting a battle inside her.

Legolas came down to her, his expression both soothing and exhausted. "Do you think I didn't try this before you arrived?" he whispered with a nod in direction of his father.

"You did?" Tauriel was not sure why she was surprised.

Legolas arched an eyebrow and gave back, "Of course! But he won't consider it until our people are safe."

"It will be too late by then!" Tauriel snapped more loudly than intended. The watchmen turned their heads, but her glare made them pretend indifference again immediately.

Legolas let out a sigh. "Tauriel, you have to understand him. He's scared for our people, he knows what the wrath of a dragon can do."

"It isn't even coming for us!" Tauriel spat back at him. "It's coming for the Dwarves and all of them will die if we don't warn them!"

"They're Dwarves, they will die anyway!" Legolas shouted, a slight blush spreading over his normally pale face.

For a moment Tauriel needed all her concentration to wrap her mind around what she had just heard. She opened her mouth to reply something, but Legolas anticipated her, nervously brushing a strand of hair behind his ear, "I'm sorry, that was tasteless."

"Indeed," was Tauriel's grumbled contribution.

"Look," Legolas tried to reason with her, "even if we warn them on time, what will they do? Do you think they will leave their city, abandon their treasure? Tauriel, the first and only thing that should matter to us now is the well-being of our own people. You swore an oath to protect them…"

"And I will," she interjected, "our people will be safe. I just don't understand how your father can be so… unfeeling towards the fate of our neighbours. I know he isn't fond of Dwarves, but such cruelty?"

Another deep breath escaped Legolas' mouth and his look became absent for a moment. "We have not seen what he has seen. Hurry to bring the people to the caves. When they're safe, we can try to talk to him once more." He gave her a tired but encouraging look.

"Fine," she hissed and shrugged.

When she had just turned around to leave the throne room, she heard Legolas come after her. "Can I do anything to help?" he asked with almost as much as hope in his voice.

Tauriel stopped and felt her lips curl in an involuntary and completely misplaced smile. "If you could find Alation and tell him that Operation Crow has started, to make sure he prepares the Palace Guard…"

"I will," he assured her before both of them rushed off in opposite directions.

* * *

><p>"I'm not moving an inch!" the grim-looking charburner declared and waved his saw emphatically at Tauriel. She took a precautious step backwards and exchanged an eye-rolling with Rineth and Etheldir, the two soldiers of the Special Operations Unit who were accompanying her while supervising the evacuation. Who would have thought that some of those villagers would be so stubborn?<p>

The Forest Guard units had cleared most of the settlements within a day and a half – thank Eru the spider infestation in the more remote areas had driven the Woodelves closer and closer to the palace during the last decades. However, a few villagers refused to leave their homes, obviously unimpressed by the prospect of a dragon sweeping over Greenwood.

Fortunately this was the last village that had not been evacuated yet. Tauriel had been surprised to find her own former Forest Guard unit in charge of the area in question, so she had taken the opportunity to join them and finish the mission. It was a very small settlement of no more than nine inhabitants – however, they proved to be extraordinarily determined to ignore the Guard's efforts.

"We're close to the river," the man with the saw pointed out, as if he did not notice the stupidity of his idea in the slightest. "If the dragon sets fire to this place, there's more than enough water to extinguish it." He crossed his arms defensively. Tauriel caught Etheldir's look of utter disbelief and Rineth's slightly offended stare and bit back a chuckle.

Very expressively she examined the carving on her dagger hilts and, calculating the effect of every single word and gesture, she stated, "I would let you stay. Personally, I do not care a troll's toenail about your survival." She had been through two very long days and was slowly but steadily getting annoyed. If that stubborn villager wanted to lock horns with the Captain of the Guard, so be it.

The words did not fail to unsettle the resistant charburner, although the first gasp of disapproval came from Rineth. Tauriel arched an eyebrow at her and went on towards the man, "But, you see, as I have my orders, I'm afraid you and your kin have no choice but to oblige us."

"Or what?" it came back from another ellon who resembled the first one suspiciously.

Tauriel took a deep breath, then another one and finally she came to the decision that she was done with this. Should she be the captain for nothing? No, in exchange for bearing all the responsibility, for keeping the Woodland Guard functioning day in and day out and for taking the king's occasional disapproval all upon herself she figured that once in a while it was her right to enjoy the only privilege that came with her position: delegating inconvenient tasks to her subordinates. And who could be a better target than the person who just happened to walk by, barking an order at his Forest Guard unit?

"Fiondir!" Tauriel addressed the corporal, who grasped the situation with one look and joined the captain with a smug half-grin on his face. Tauriel could have beheaded him for it, but at least he spared her any snide comments. Instead of reacting to him, she said with as much dignity as she could, "Corporal, these two fine craftsmen would like to hear a few good reasons for having to leave their home, and you are known for your… persuasiveness." She gave Fiondir a subtle smirk, which he reciprocated sarcastically.

"Of course, Captain," he gave back and turned to the charburners.

Tauriel did not stay to watch the spectacle that followed, but a minute later she could infer from Rineth's shocked expression and the charburners' muttered protest that Fiondir might just have unsheathed his two most convincing arguments after words had failed. She allowed herself a glance over her shoulder and saw Fiondir leading the two villagers towards their huts, where the rest of the settlement's inhabitants were almost done packing their most necessary belongings. Sidhril and the other members of Tauriel's former unit were busy assisting them and talking them out of burdening themselves with needless luggage.

"Rest assured the palace has ceilings! You will not need rain cloaks!" Tauriel heard Sidhril explain to a concerned woman. Eru, could they not hurry up a bit? The king expected the evacuation to be complete by nightfall and it would take at least two more hours to get all those people and their belongings to the palace…

Her thought was violently interrupted by an infernal rumble above the treetops, distant but still clear enough to make all the present Eldar stop whatever they were doing and look at each other in bewilderment.

After a moment of frightful silence, Rineth whispered hesitantly to Etheldir, "T-That was… thunder, wasn't it?" He glanced cluelessly at her and then at Tauriel, whose heart was beating against her ribcage like the hooves of a bolting horse. From the corner of her eyes she could see the villagers awake from their momentary trance and throw worried looks at the treetops.

Following their example, the next thing she noticed was a swarm of chaffinches chirping and fluttering hectically between the leaves. In the huddle of terrified bird voices Tauriel could not understand what they were saying, but a few of the other Eldar did. For another good while nobody moved or spoke, until someone whispered the word 'dragon'.

Later Tauriel would not remember any details about the minutes or even the hours that followed. She found herself in a state where her brain simply blocked out everything that was not crucial to her mission. All she recalled and all that mattered was that somehow she managed to stop the villagers from panicking.

The dragon was probably not even close, but the Eldar could literally feel the forest cringe in fear – the birds, the insects, even the trees were in uproar. Tauriel vaguely remembered that she led the people along the river, just in case, and could not help being impressed by her own presence of mind.

They made the way to the palace in half the estimated time and no sooner than when the gates closed behind the last Eldar, the realisation of what was actually happening finally flooded Tauriel's consciousness.

Along with it came an overwhelming feeling of helplessness and fatigue. Her people were safe, but for how long? Since when did fleeing and hiding count as a solution against the ever growing threats of a darkening world? And what about those who could not flee, the Dwarves of Erebor and the Men of Dale? Tauriel did not feel strong enough to think about it.

She looked around; there were people everywhere, assembled in smaller or larger groups, whispering, discussing, arguing, carrying their belongings across the courtyard and into the corridors. Some looked afraid, others seemed rather annoyed with the whole situation. At least the Palace Guard was doing excellent work in organising the mass movement, as Tauriel noticed with a somewhat comforting satisfaction.

Sidhril approached her and said something about how everyone was safe now and how well the whole evacuation had worked. Tauriel's mind refused to focus and her friend's kind words reached her as nothing but an unintelligible blur. She nodded, forced a smile and managed to praise the Forest Guard's effort in a few well-studied and often repeated sentences in return, before Sidhril was called away by Fiondir.

As soon as the latest incomers spread the news of the dragon's presence, a silence heavy as lead fell upon the Woodland Palace. No chronicle and no song would ever speak of it, but Tauriel felt this was the hour when the people of Greenwood realised once and for all that the sheltered world they had once known did not exist anymore and that they needed to become as ruthless as their surroundings if they wanted to survive.

In the middle of the crowd Tauriel spotted Legolas, who was working his way towards the main entrance while speaking to Galion. She did not know how, but the determination of his gestures and the calmness of his voice managed to restore a part of her confidence and strength. She had a task to fulfil and she could not afford to let her personal concerns get into the way of her duty. After exchanging a short reassuring glance with Legolas and taking a deep breath, she set out to find the king.

* * *

><p>Thranduil tightened his grip around the reins of his mount and straightened his back, unable to suppress a grimace of both concern and annoyance. What in Manwë's name had possessed him to leave his realm and go to Erebor in the first place? His meddlesome son and his overeager Chief of Guards had somehow persuaded him to take a look at the situation. It had been a weak moment and he had regretted his indulgence ever since the departure.<p>

Thank Eru only one of those confounded troublemakers was accompanying him. Leaving the captain behind when half the Woodland Guard was moving had been out of the question, but at least Legolas was safe and sound in the palace. 'Make sure the people settle in properly,' the king had ordered him. Although Thranduil was well aware that his son saw right through this diversional manoeuvre, Legolas' protest had fallen on deaf ears.

When Thranduil had decided to undertake the journey, it had actually seemed like a good idea to him. After all, the King of the Woodland Realm should know what he was dealing with when a fire drake chose to settle at such a short distance from his halls. Besides, given that the city of Dale was – or had been – a major trading partner, it could be useful to check if there were any commercial interactions to be expected within the next few decades.

Unfortunately that was rather unlikely. The elven company passed the miserable remains of a completely demolished and depopulated city. Thranduil did not bother sending out scouts to examine the ruins because it was obvious that they would find no survivors. The nauseating smell of burnt flesh and smoke stung in his nose and lured out some long-buried memories.

Dragon fire had a most particular smell that not even three thousand years had made him forget. He had spent centuries trying to evade the images that still haunted his dreams, to push away the echoes of the screams and the dragons' roars that kept coming back to him whenever he was not vigilant. With time he had stopped fighting the memories and learned to accept them as a dark and painful part of himself. Now, however, in the presence of his old nemesis, he felt his stomach turn and his left cheek started burning.

A few miles west the Eldar had encountered a small group of Edain who had escaped the massacre, more dead than alive. They were on their way to Esgaroth, where they hoped to find shelter. Thranduil had offered them provisions and the help of the healers he had brought with him. According to these mortals, the dragon had swept over the city and then taken the mountain in one attempt, mercilessly burning down everything and everyone that dared to stand in his way.

The elven company ascended a hill that allowed them to observe the Lonely Mountain from a safe distance, yet near enough to get an overview of the situation. Thranduil signalled his soldiers to halt and looked down into the valley. The Dwarves had not yet abandoned their lost home. Many of them were still assembled in front of the huge gates, looking disheartened and confused but obviously unwilling to give in.

"Fools," Thranduil heard himself say, noticing but not reacting to the disapproving glare the Captain of the Guard threw at him.

The mountain was silent, but the king could feel the presence of the dragon with every fibre of his being. So did his soldiers, judging from their frightened faces. Even the elk he was riding started to paw the ground nervously and Thranduil felt the animal's breath quicken.

Some of the Dwarves had noticed the Eldar on the hill. 'About time,' the king could not stop himself from thinking. A murmur went through the crowd and soon the first pleas for help emerged from the valley. From the corner of his eyes Thranduil saw Tauriel's eyes widen – a bad sign, as he had learned during the last decades.

"My lord," she finally addressed him, "shouldn't we do something?"

He turned towards her and cut off her question with a sharp look. "We will offer them the same assistance we have given to the Men of Dale," he replied. Tauriel's lips tightened, but she nodded and instructed two soldiers to descend the hill and convey the offer to the Dwarves.

When the messengers came back, they reported that the Dwarves had declined any non-military help and asked for the Elves' support in fighting the dragon instead.

"Those stubborn earthworms," the king commented and made an effort to contain his temper. A wave of rage rose in his chest at the Dwarves' impertinent and ungrateful request. How could they be stupid enough to attack a dragon that had just destroyed an entire city and eliminated half their people in the blink of an eye?

He threw another look into the valley. Dozens of eyes were fixed on him; the Dwarves were waiting for his reply. He turned to his captain once again and said as calmly as he could, "If they choose to refuse our assistance, we shall leave them to their own ill judgement."

As expected, Tauriel's face showed her disapproval in the most unmistakable manner. It was remarkable how utterly unable she was to control her emotions, Thranduil noticed not for the first time. The fire that sparked in her eyes every time she disagreed with him on a matter that evoked her pity or idealism almost endeared her to him. He remembered a time when he had not been much different – but the centuries had taught him to be reasonable and do what was best for his subjects. He gave Tauriel another decisive glare and shook his head.

"But those Dwarves will lose their home if we don't…" she started.

"They have already lost it," he interrupted her firmly. "There is nothing anyone can do. I will not send my people to death for the greed and ignorance of a few Dwarves."

Without another word he took his eyes off the valley and turned his elk around. It was enough that his beloved Greenwood was being poisoned by an ancient evil. The last thing he needed was another calamity at his doorstep, so he would certainly not willingly annoy a dragon.

* * *

><p>The only place Tauriel could think of where a little peace and quiet could still be found within the walls of the Woodland Palace was the labyrinth below the courtyard. There were people everywhere, occupying even the most remote caves and corridors that could be made tolerably habitable. The Halls of the Woodland Realm had been designed to harbour a lot more people than they usually did, but having the whole population of Greenwood assembled in the caves was a big adjustment for everyone. The forest had been evacuated a month ago, but the king still refused to let anyone but the guards leave the palace.<p>

Tauriel had an hour to spare before she was expected in the training yard to assess the progress of the recruits. What she needed most was a little solitude, so she made her way down to the labyrinth. Her thoughts wandered off to the Dwarves of Erebor and the people of Dale. Their faces full of desperation, their homes turned into mere piles of ash, their loved ones killed by the flames – whenever Tauriel closed her eyes, the pictures she had seen during the pointless journey to the Lonely Mountain returned to haunt her. But what was even worse was the king's voice in her head that repeated over and over 'We will leave them to their own ill judgement. There is nothing anyone can do.'

She understood Thranduil's concern for the safety of his soldiers. If she had been in his place, she would most likely have made the same decision. Still, she could not stop asking herself whether things could have been different, whether all those people might still be alive if they had been warned on time, like the Eldar had. Tauriel felt her hands tremble again and the all too familiar queasy feeling rose in her stomach. She forced herself once more to push the thoughts away.

The air in the labyrinth was cool and humid and the omnipresent sound of too many voices and footsteps could only be heard in the distance. Tauriel took a deep breath and leaned against the rough stone wall.

"Lo and behold, another fugitive of the general chaos!" a mocking voice emerged from the dark.

Tauriel was not even surprised, instead she let her lips curve into a smile and gave back, "Shouldn't you be doing something useful, Your Highness?"

Legolas suppressed a chuckle and Tauriel could see his silhouette coming around the corner of another corridor. "But I am," he pointed out, "I'm keeping myself from going insane. All those discontent, confused, grumpy villagers who are held captive here, although most of them want nothing more than go back home…" He sat down on the floor next to Tauriel, leaning his back against the wall and resting his head on his hands.

Being so close to him in such a secluded place made her feel uneasy and safe at the same time. She was not used to this anymore, but at least his presence provided some comfort. She sat down next to him and they spent a few minutes in silence.

"What has been troubling you so much that it keeps you up at night and makes you wander the palace?" Legolas suddenly asked. Tauriel felt her cheeks flush for no apparent reason.

"Your question implies that you too are unable to find rest," she answered. When he did not react, except for a shrug that she could rather hear than see, she admitted, "I can't forget what I've seen. The Dwarves and Men, killed, injured, homeless… I thought I knew what death looked like, but what I saw there was more than I can bear. And we turned our back on them. We just left them to their fate, we just…" Tauriel's voice failed and the lump in her throat choked her words.

Slowly and hesitantly Legolas' hand reached for hers. She closed her fingers around it and felt as if she could take strength from the light touch. "You did what you had to do," he said quietly. "You protected our people and stood by your king. Any further help you could have given the Men and Dwarves would have endangered your soldiers."

"I know," Tauriel replied, trying not to sound too miserable and failing gloriously. It was true, she did know all of that. Nevertheless her bad consciousness seemed unwilling to listen to reason.

"Do you feel that way too sometimes?" she whispered into the dark, "inadequate, as if everything you do is proper and reasonable, but never true to what you believe?"

Legolas' fingers twitched slightly. He took his time to reply, but then he said, "I do. In fact, I have felt that way ever since I started to understand what it means to be the son of a king." He let out a short chuckle that was both amusement and bitterness. "It's not always as dramatic as a dragon's assault though. Sometimes it's as simple as…" He paused and for a moment his grip around her hand tightened, but then he relaxed again and added, "Never mind. You did the right thing and you're a good captain. Don't let a stupid dragon convince you otherwise."

Tauriel blinked into the darkness once or twice before she pushed her slight confusion away and managed a weak but warm smile. "And you're a good prince. Don't let an overly demanding king convince you otherwise… mellon."


	20. White Horses

One more step – careful not to crack the dry twigs under her feet – and Tauriel was out of sight of the guard who had taken up his watch post behind a group of thick juniper trees. It felt very odd to hide from her own soldier. Besides, having successfully escaped his notice, she was not sure whether to be proud of her own subtlety or worried about the guard's lacking attention. However, this was not the time to ponder any serious work-related thoughts – Tauriel had a bet to win.

The unforgivably silly game she was playing had been a long-standing tradition between her and Legolas since their childhood. Every year on the day before the summer solstice, given that their respective duties allowed it, they would have a little race from the courtyard to their favourite cherry tree, the aim being to sneak out of the palace and traverse the forest unseen by the guards. The secrecy had become somewhat pointless since Tauriel commanded the Woodland Guard, because no watchman would deny her passage, but she took the game seriously nevertheless and refrained from simply ordering her soldiers to mind their own business.

She grinned to herself and shook her head. How utterly ridiculous the whole game was! And yet neither the prince nor the captain wanted to give up the last bit of silliness they could squeeze into their busy schedules.

Tauriel remembered how the tradition had started and felt a broad smile curl her lips. One particularly warm afternoon in June, when everybody at the palace had been busy preparing the summer solstice feast, two bored elflings had decided to take the opportunity and sneak out while no one was paying attention to them. Of course the adventure had soon turned into a competition and they had kept count ever since.

Within the last two centuries Legolas had been on a winning streak. He had reached the cherry tree first almost every year, with the exception of that one summer about a hundred and seventy years ago, the year of the dragon's attack on Erebor, when no one had been allowed to leave the palace. Despite the long row of defeats, however, Tauriel was determined to redeem herself this time.

She climbed an ancient and rather unhealthy-looking elm tree at the edge of the river, balanced along one of its strong, mossy branches to cross the water dry-shod and slid down on the opposite bank using a suspiciously purple vine that was hanging from another neighbouring tree. Landing on the leave-covered ground, she could already see the cherry tree a few steps ahead. She had made it, apparently good fortune was on her side this year. Another little sprint across the warm layer of dried leaves and twigs – and there she was, winning the race for the first time in…

"May I offer you some cherries?" an amused voice came from between the branches of the tree.

Tauriel's smile froze and she exclaimed in utter disbelief, "Aulë's anvil! Damn it, Legolas, how did you do that?"

His only answer was a chuckle as he climbed down the tree with his pockets full of the mellow red fruit. He savoured the pout on her face with an impertinent grin before he threw a cherry at her and mocked her, "Just admit it, you don't stand a chance against me. Apparently I know the forest much better than you."

The cherry flew right back at Legolas and hit the side of his head. "No violence!" he demanded, still laughing. "It's not my fault that you're so slow… All right, I'll be quiet." Tauriel had approached him with her most convincing 'I will claw your eyes out if you say one more word' look, which never failed to put him in his place.

"Fine, another defeat," she sighed, already grinning again. "Now I deserve a consolation prize." She held out her palm and was rewarded with a handful of cherries. She walked to the edge of the river and sat down on the sunlit rock that projected over the calm water.

Legolas joined her and leaned back on his elbows to let the rare sunlight touch his face. Tauriel could see the corners of his mouth curl into a nearly invisible smile. For a moment she observed how the light played with the tiny hairs beneath his hairline, making them shine in various shades of silver and gold, but then she forced herself to look away, shoved a cherry into her mouth and focused on the chewing. She vaguely remembered that it was supposed to taste sweet.

After a while Legolas sat up again and started eating his share of fruit as well. When he was done, he threw the cherry stones into the river one by one, gazing thoughtfully into the water.

"What's on your mind?" Tauriel asked curiously. Her words seemed to wake him from a trance and he looked at her with a hint of astonishment that soon turned into a warm smile.

"Nothing to worry about," he reassured her. "I was just considering the questionable prospect of having to entertain our visitors for the next few weeks. They're due to arrive tomorrow and as much as I'm looking forward to seeing them again, I'm afraid I will hardly set foot into the forest while they're here."

Tauriel nodded sympathetically. He had informed her about the upcoming visit of some distant relatives from his mother's family before. Legolas had stayed with them at their home in the West various times and now it was their turn to pay a return visit to the Greenwood.

"Tell me again who they are exactly," she requested, getting confused once more about the complicated structures of his widespread Sindarin kin.

Legolas needed a moment to gather his thoughts too before he started to explain, "Well, there is Lord Andor, who is my mother's cousin… of some sort. They grew up like siblings and he is the last one of her kin who hasn't sailed west yet. I think he's a decent fellow, though a little rough around the edges. He breeds the most magnificent horses I've ever seen in my life, but only white ones, strangely enough. Anyway, his wife… " Legolas paused and Tauriel could see a hint of discomfort in his eyes, which he quickly eliminated with a blink and continued. "Lady Daenis is a force to be reckoned with. She is the secret ruler and pulls all the strings. Whether you're a common farmer, a mighty warrior or even a king, it's always unwise to stand in her way." He gulped and Tauriel wondered if he had made that mistake himself in the past.

Obviously he did not feel inclined to enlighten her. Instead he went on, "As far as I'm informed, they're also bringing their youngest daughter."

"The little girl who was so very attached to you during your last visits?" Tauriel remembered.

Legolas rolled his eyes and chuckled. "Exactly! Gelinnas – she confiscated me right away. She was quite… demanding at times and couldn't sit still for a minute."

"All the more flattering that you captured her attention for so long," Tauriel pointed out and wondered, "How old is she now?"

Legolas counted the years in his head and could not hide his surprise about the result. "She must be almost two hundred. Eru, how time flies!" He shook his head and Tauriel laughed at his bewildered expression.

"Laugh all you will," Legolas gave back. "I'm seriously starting to feel old if I think about it."

Tauriel gave him an ironic frown. "Too old for silly racing games?" she teased him, stealing the last cherry right from his hand.

He side-eyed her for a while, obviously pondering a difficult decision. At last he turned towards her and said hesitantly, "Tauriel, I have a confession to make."

She arched an eyebrow, already detecting the hint of mischief in his voice. "I am all ears."

"You've been wondering how I won the race all these years, haven't you?" he asked a little hypocritically and Tauriel only responded with a nod and an even more sceptical face. "Well," he continued slowly, "I may not exactly have abided by the long-established rules… Instead of creeping through the coppice and avoiding the guards, I just took the path and ordered every soldier who saw me not to tell you."

Tauriel's jaw dropped for a second in pretended indignation. She assessed Legolas' guilty face, but instead of providing an answer, she simply pushed him off the rock and into the river without so much of a word. He landed in the shallow water with a loud splash and uttered a few curses she would not have expected from the well-mannered prince.

When he had regained his composure, he straightened up and showed her his most dignified expression. Tauriel could not deny that he looked royal even in his current state.

"That was somewhat uncalled for, wouldn't you agree?" was his laconic comment, delivered with a sarcastic smirk, before he accepted the hand she stretched out to help him climb the rock again. A moment later Tauriel regretted her gullibility – without a blink Legolas pulled her down and repaid her in her own coin, not even refraining from dipping her into the cool water several times.

He was grinning from one dripping ear to the other when he finally loosened his grip around her shoulders and allowed her to catch her breath. A very reasonable part of her wanted to yell at him, whereas the overwhelming majority of her emotions told her quite the opposite – but of course she silenced them, as she had been used to for decades.

"You bloody son of a Troll," she muttered under her breath while wringing out her hair, earning herself a genuine laugh and another solid splash of water. She retaliated immediately, displaying a grim face while desperately trying to hide her chuckle. Her effort was fruitless, of course.

"You had it coming," Legolas pointed out most accurately as he waded through the thigh-high water towards the bank and climbed out.

Tauriel followed him, decidedly refusing the help he offered her. How on earth was she going to get through the inspection of the Palace Guard that was supposed to start in half an hour without making a complete fool of herself, dripping wet as she was? Well, at least it was a warm day and the mild wind would probably dry most of it off on the way home.

She glanced at Legolas, who was just putting his boots back on after pouring out the remaining water. He had not managed to get rid of his smile yet and gave her a look full of conspiratorial mischief. There was a wet leaf tangled in his hair and Tauriel's hand twitched to reach for it. She stopped it by force and lectured herself in her head, 'No, you won't! Pull yourself together, Tauriel, those times are over and you have yourself to blame for it!'

Nevertheless her eyes returned to the leaf and Legolas threw her a questioning look. "You've got something there…" she started, indicating the spot with a gesture. Before she could prevent it, her hand was already there, meeting his, and recoiled immediately at the light contact of skin.

'For Eru's sake, Tauriel, you're the Captain of the Woodland Guard – stop behaving like a silly elfling!' she reprimanded herself silently.

To Legolas she said, "You know what, I have an inspection to do. We should go home."

"Agreed," he simply gave back with a hint of confusion and together they started their way to the palace.

* * *

><p>When they arrived at the palace wet and dirty and altogether unpresentable, Legolas' only hope was not to run into his father. Tauriel, however, did not seem to mind her current state too much – but of course she was right, as his eyes pointed out to him without his mind's consent, because she did look charming with her wet hair all dishevelled and that slight blush of agitation on her cheeks.<p>

She had pushed him into the river just like that – the memory put a smile on his face. Who else but Tauriel would ever do such a thing? Impetuous, mischievous, inappropriate, lovely Tauriel… He peeked over to her and noticed some pine needles clinging to her collar bone. In the very last moment he resisted the urge to reach for her and wipe them away. 'Stop that nonsense, Legolas!' he reminded himself. 'You're supposed to be her friend, so behave like one!'

A sigh escaped his lips that luckily went unheard. How often had he repeated these silent admonitions to himself during the last decades? He had lost count long ago. But of course it was for the best that things had turned out this way. He forced his eyes away from Tauriel and focused on maintaining at least a hint of dignity while passing the astonished watchmen at the main gate.

What he saw on entering the courtyard almost made his heart stop for a moment. At first he only noticed the unexpected crowd of people and horses assembled next to the entrance of the royal quarters, but a closer look told him that he could not have picked a worse moment for coming home all drenched in river water and covered in dirt. Apparently their guests from the West had arrived a day early and were currently being welcomed by the king while their escort was busy taking care of the horses and the luggage, assisted by Galion and the palace's equerry. Legolas caught a glimpse of his father greeting Lord Andor with a brotherly embrace and Lady Daenis with a graceful bow of the head.

He stopped at the gate and threw a glance at Tauriel, whose concerned expression reflected her sympathy for him. Her lips formed a silent 'sorry'.

Legolas made an attempt to turn around straight away, but it was too late. "Ion nín!" he heard his father call and once again he cursed the king's constant attention to his surroundings. He gave Tauriel a troubled smile, which she reciprocated along with a short nod, and braced himself for the most awkward encounter of the century.

He crossed the courtyard with his head held high, as if there was nothing at all to be ashamed of. His father's disapproving glance, however, put an immediate damper on his fighting spirit.

'What in the name of all the Valar have you been doing?' the king's eyes said.

"How convenient," he remarked. "You are right on time to welcome our long-anticipated, yet so unexpected visitors." Legolas forced his face to smile and turned towards the guests.

"Lord Andor, what a pleasure to see you again," he addressed his mother's cousin, who made an attempt to hug him but changed his mind at the sight of Legolas' wet attire.

Instead he shook his hand heartily and replied, "The pleasure is all mine, my dear boy."

Legolas moved on to Lady Daenis, who arched an eyebrow and mustered him subtly from head to toe before gracing him with a light kiss on the cheek while carefully avoiding any further touch. "I hope you had an untroubled journey," he said to her for lack of other ideas.

She nodded and gave back, "Well, of sorts. Your forest has not become any more agreeable, I have to say." Legolas could see his father frown for the split of a second.

The prince gave Lady Daenis a polite grin and apologised, "I am afraid so. All the more fortunate that you are here now." Thranduil threw his son an almost grateful look that allowed Legolas to release a part of the tension he was feeling because of his inappropriate entrance.

"But there is one more person you should be pleased – and surprised – to see again," Lady Daenis pointed out to Legolas. She turned towards the group of servants and horses with a hint of impatience. "Gelinnas!" she called a little harshly when she could not find her daughter immediately.

Legolas threw a curious look at the crowd and could only just stop his jaw from dropping at the sight offered to him. From between two of the white horses the young lady in question emerged with a warm but somewhat studied smile on her face, approached him as gracefully as he had ever seen in any creature on the surface of the world and greeted him with a perfect bow. Should this really be the cheeky, vivacious elfling he had once known or were his eyes playing a trick on him?

"Your Highness," Gelinnas addressed him, "it is an honour to be received by your kin and I am truly elated to see Greenwood the Great."

Legolas needed a moment to process the combination of her words, her appearance and his memories of her before he could reply, "The honour is all ours, my lady. Forgive me my confusion, but the last time I saw you, you were but an elfling."

Her smile became more genuine and she gave back, "I remember. You taught me the summer dance and you used to play hide and seek with me. Once I had to sit on a tree for half a day because you would not help me climb back down." Despite her reproachful expression, there was nothing but pure mischief in her eyes and Legolas felt a lot more reminded of her former self.

"I am deeply sorry," he responded teasingly with a half-serious bow of his head. "Is there any way I can make it up to you?"

"Let us just say you owe me," was Gelinnas' answer, which was just impertinent enough to make Legolas feel amused and self-conscious at once.

There was a short silence, which Thranduil used to invite the guests inside. "Galion will show you to your accommodations," he informed them and signalled the butler to fulfil the order.

When the visitors had entered the palace, the king gave his son a stern look. "Would you care to explain to me where you have been and how you ended up in this hideous state?"

Legolas gulped and tried to think of an excuse that would not reflect badly on Tauriel, but it was too late, as he noticed on following his father's eyes. He was looking across the courtyard, where Tauriel had just come out of the Guard's quarters, her wet hair tied back in one thick braid and her drenched attire unceremoniously exchanged for her old patrol uniform.

"Never mind," Thranduil stated dryly and turned around to follow the guests inside. "Clean yourself up and then come to the reception room. I do not wish to deal with them all by myself."

Legolas nodded to his father's back. He knew Thranduil would not wait for a confirmation; he was used to being obeyed.

When his father was out of sight, Legolas threw a glance at Tauriel, who returned it worriedly. He gave her a reassuring smile and a conspiratorial eye-rolling before he made his way into the palace.

* * *

><p>The summer solstice feast in the courtyard had started the usual way, with music, dancing, old songs and poems, lots of food and even more drink. The last warming rays of sunlight had faded and been replaced with the flicker of candles and torches. Legolas was sitting at the royal table with his father and their guests, observing the crowd and listening half-heartedly to Lord Andor's stories about his horses. The fourth glass of the strong Dorwinion wine had made him chatty and Legolas could not blame him. Lady Daenis contributed an occasional benevolent remark once in a while and Gelinnas did not say much at all, but her eyes shone every time her father mentioned the horses.<p>

The king just came back from a short chat with some other acquaintance and was greeted by a fairly red-cheeked Lord Andor as he sat down, "Ah, there you are! Thranduil, my old friend who stole my favourite cousin and let her die far away from the light in this haunted forest of yours!" Legolas' forced smile froze on his face and he threw an anxious glance at his father, who displayed an expression of utter bewilderment.

"Andor, be quiet!" Lady Daenis hissed in her husband's ear, smiling nervously at Thranduil and Legolas.

However, Lord Andor would not be deterred and added with a chuckle and a slap on the perplexed king's shoulder, "He knows I'm joking. Don't you, mellon? I mean, it wasn't really your fault; her father practically sold her to you for a few trade agreements…"

"Andor!" Lady Daenis almost shouted, her face slowly turning crimson. "I apologise, my lord…"

Legolas assessed his father worriedly, but for now the king seemed willing to endure his guest's drunken outburst stoically.

Lord Andor waved his hand at his wife and went on towards Thranduil, "No, really, I remember the whole charade as if it were yesterday: He used every trick in the book to advertise you to her – your crown, your strange people of wood-dwellers, your darned forest – until she finally agreed to meet you. Eru knows what she saw in you that day…"

"That's it, no more wine for you!" Lady Daenis interjected and took his half-full glass away. "Gelinnas, pour your father a glass of water!" Her daughter, who had been paralysed during the entire conversation, quickly obeyed and reached for the carafe on the table, while Daenis simultaneously tried to silence her husband and appease the king.

"My lord, I am so sorry…" she started, but Thranduil interrupted her by throwing her a glare that could have frozen the hot spring on the lowest level of the palace.

At that point Legolas knew that his father was either going to leave without so much of a word or do something to Lord Andor that he would regret the next morning. Fortunately the king chose the first option and rushed off, not failing to give his son a look that ordered him to stay.

There was an awkward silence after that. Legolas tried to reassure the guests with a polite smile, but the words he had just heard had unsettled him too much to make it convincing. He knew that Lord Andor had delivered his own understanding of the story, influenced by the wine as much as his grief for his beloved cousin. Legolas remembered enough about his mother to be sure that she had not married his father for political reasons and that she had loved him as well as her new home in the Woodland Realm. Still, hearing the unfavourable account of one of her family members certainly made him uneasy.

In that moment the music stopped and the harp and flute players started a new piece. Lady Daenis straightened up and addressed the prince, "Listen, it is the summer dance. Dear Legolas, as you made such an effort to teach Gelinnas the steps back in the day, maybe you would like to judge the progress she has made since then?" She nearly killed herself to sound cheerful, as Legolas noticed with slight disgust, but although dancing was the very last thing on his mind, he could not expose Gelinnas to the humiliation of refusing her.

"With pleasure," he replied and rose from his chair while holding out his hand towards the girl. "Will you do me the honour of dancing with me?" She nodded and accepted his hand, throwing an all but fearful look at her parents, but when she got up, she had already regained control of her face.

He led her to the middle of the courtyard, where the general herd instinct had established an improvised dance floor. The summer dance was a group dance and Legolas waited for a convenient moment to join the people who were already lined up in two rows, engaging in the fairly joyful movements.

Gelinnas refused to look at him throughout the entire first half of the dance. Finally, when the steps forced her to come closer and face him, she gave him a shy shadow of a smile and whispered, "I'm sorry for what my father said. He doesn't mean it, I'm sure. He's not used to that strong wine."

"You don't need to apologise to me," Legolas tried to reassure her. "You did nothing wrong and I don't resent your father either. The king will have forgiven him by tomorrow morning." He was not so sure about that, but he would do his best to reason with Thranduil later that night.

"Thank you," Gelinnas replied and her eyes wandered back to her shoe tips immediately.

Legolas felt sorry for her, so he tried to redirect the conversation by ironically complimenting her on her dancing skills in the most earnest tone he could produce. "Your mother was right, you have greatly improved since the last time we danced."

She looked up at him, astonishment flickering in her eyes that was replaced by a smirk the second she realised that he was teasing her. "It would be more of a compliment if you didn't sound so utterly surprised," she gave back, leaving him speechless at her repartee.

A moment later she burst out laughing, which only increased Legolas' confusion. "W-what's amusing you so much?" he asked, almost forgetting the next steps of the dance.

"You should see your own face right now," Gelinnas explained and suppressed another giggle.

Legolas immediately put on a neutral expression. "I have to admit that you are quite… unsettling at times," he pointed out, not expecting the reaction his casual remark provoked.

"Am I?" Gelinnas asked and looked very embarrassed. "Forgive me, it was not my intention to irritate you. It's just that all this is new to me, being at a court, conversing with royalty…"

"Don't worry, you're doing splendidly," Legolas hurried to make it right. "All that ceremonious ado used to confuse me no less than you. I've simply gotten used to it by now."

He noticed with relief that his diversional manoeuvre had succeeded when she replied, "Thank you for being so patient with me. You know, my mother all but drilled me to behave myself before we came here. She gave me an interminable list of subjects I should and should not talk about and she specifically warned me not to annoy King Thranduil, as he is said to be quite short-tempered… Oh, this is probably one of the topics I was not supposed to mention." She bit her lip and now it was Legolas' turn to laugh out loud, as much as he struggled to maintain his composure.

Gelinnas rolled her eyes and shrugged in ironic desperation. "I'm useless at this, aren't I?"

"Not at all," Legolas' manners forced him to answer, but at the sight of her sceptical frown he could not refrain from correcting himself, "well, yes, but it doesn't exactly make you unlikeable." That at least was true and quite astonishing after the doubtful privilege of witnessing her mother and father's earlier display.

Neither of them said anything more until the dance ended. Legolas dragged his partner out of the most crowded area and thought of a new topic of polite small talk, but she anticipated him by gesturing towards a nearby table. "Look, isn't that the lady you arrived with yesterday? The one with the red hair? I almost didn't recognise her in that dress." Legolas followed Gelinnas' eyes and indeed he saw Tauriel sitting at the table with her back turned to them, absorbed in a conversation with her brother and sister-in-law.

"Exactly, that's her," he confirmed, not failing to notice how lovely Tauriel looked in her simple but elegant pale green dress. Remembering that there was someone standing next to him, he interrupted his contemplation and asked, "Will you take me for a horrible liar if I tell you that this is our Captain of the Guard?"

Gelinnas' eyes widened. "Is she really? An elleth?"

"Yes," Legolas confirmed with a hint of pride, "our customs are quite different from yours in this matter, I assume. In the Woodland Realm everyone needs to know how to stand their own ground, so we don't care too much about the gender of our warriors."

"That sounds reasonable," Gelinnas admitted while still glancing curiously at Tauriel's back. "I've always wondered why it should be disgraceful for an elleth to wield a sword while she is no less likely to die from one than an ellon."

Legolas was quite impressed by that insightful remark. "Wise words. Would you like to meet the captain?" he proposed. The truth was that he was looking for an excuse to talk to Tauriel himself, so his guest's apparent interest in her was rather convenient.

"Very much!" Gelinnas affirmed, "though I do not wish to impose…"

"You are most certainly not," the prince reassured her and signalled her to follow him towards Tauriel's table.

Amril and Eilianneth saw him first and made Tauriel aware of the approaching visitors. She turned around and gave him a bright smile that lost a little of its credibility when she noticed Gelinnas. The three elves rose from their benches and greeted the prince and the lady with a bow. Legolas returned the respectful gesture by by bowing his head and felt quite silly doing so, given that he had spent countless hours chatting informally with all three of them.

He turned to his guest and said, "My lady, I would like you to meet Captain Tauriel, head of the Woodland Guard and a very dear friend of mine, as well as her brother Amril Arasdaerion, one of our most accomplished healers, and his wife Eilianneth." Gelinnas looked at each of them with genuine interest before Legolas introduced her in turn, "My friends, this is Lady Gelinnas Andoriel, one of our guests from our kin in the West."

A few of the usual courtesies were exchanged before Amril and Eilianneth excused themselves. Legolas saw Tauriel assess Gelinnas discreetly, but the latter interrupted her contemplation by mentioning quite bluntly, "I am so impressed to meet a female captain! Where I come from, it would be unthinkable for an elleth to become a warrior."

Tauriel frowned shortly, but she controlled her expression immediately and replied stiffly, "Well, in this realm it is not. We cannot afford to be picky when it comes to who defends our people."

Legolas gulped and wondered what had gotten into Tauriel. Gelinnas did not seem to notice the captain's subtly hinted disapproval, or maybe she chose to ignore it, because she went on as if nothing had happened, "I've heard about the dangers of Mirkwood." At that point Legolas cringed internally and begged the Valar for Tauriel to overlook that unintentionally insulting slip of tongue.

Fortunately she did and let Gelinnas continue, "But I would still love to see the forest for myself once more, because the few glimpses we caught on our journey have even made me more curious. My parents made it clear that they would not set foot outside the palace as long as we're here, but I think it's fascinating to explore foreign lands."

Tauriel made an apparent effort to sound friendly when she answered, "Be careful what you wish for. This forest holds lots of unpleasant surprises for those who enter it unprepared. You are lucky you did not encounter any of them yet."

Legolas almost waited for a snide comment on how the Forest Guard had been forced to work overtime in order to keep the paths safe for the expected visitors, so he interjected preventively, "I would be happy to show you around some time, at least in the area close to the palace." Gelinnas' face lightened up, whereas Tauriel's turned into a sour frown for the split of a second. What in Manwë's name was wrong with her?

After a few more minutes Gelinnas spotted her parents at their table and decided to join them again. "You do not need to accompany me," she assured Legolas. "I can't keep you from your friends all evening." Of course he protested for the sake of politeness, but in truth he was quite grateful when she rejected his offer and set off on her own, allowing him to spend some time with Tauriel.

She was still displaying a slightly annoyed face and he asked her about the reason. Tauriel gave him a look of utter disbelief. "Seriously? 'It's unthinkable for an elleth to fight' and 'I would love to see more of Mirkwood'," she imitated Gelinnas' way of speaking quite accurately.

Legolas let out a chuckle. "She means no harm, Tauriel. She's just a young girl who doesn't know better yet," he tried to appease his friend.

It seemed to work, or at least Tauriel decided to pretend it did. "Fine, but don't think I'll give you any soldiers for your sightseeing trip with Princess Doe-Eyes. You'll have to endure it all by yourself, let me tell you that." Legolas laughed and gave her an affectionate slap on the arm, which she reciprocated with an elbow nudge.

"You know what, Captain?" he said teasingly and was not quite sure if he ought to start lecturing himself on his non-platonic thoughts again, "you look especially lovely tonight and it would be a terrible waste of all that lacing and braiding that you must have done if I didn't ask you for a dance."

Tauriel side-eyed him. "What will your father say if he sees you neglecting your guests and dancing with me instead?"

"He left the feast a while ago," Legolas pointed out under his breath. "Wait until you hear what happened."

Given the prospect of an interesting story, Tauriel granted him the dance. When he led her to the centre of the courtyard, he threw another look back at the royal table. His father had not returned so far, but Lady Daenis was observing him and especially Tauriel with disapproval. Legolas resolved to pretend ignorance and wondered what the next few weeks with their guests would bring.

* * *

><p>Tauriel had just returned from her control round at the eastern border and all she wanted was to sit down for a while and drink a cup of tea. It had been raining the entire four days until that very morning, which was not only very annoying but also an indicator for increasing spider activity. For some reason the beasts were fond of humid weather, as Tauriel had learned from experience.<p>

When she rode into the stable cave, followed by the Border Guard lieutenants Tuven and Glandir, she could not help but frown at the sight of the last person she wanted to see.

"Captain Tauriel," Lady Gelinnas greeted her while bridling her snow-white and admittedly marvellous horse, "what a pleasure to see you!"

"The pleasure is mine," Tauriel lied, forcing her mouth to produce a smile. "Where are you bound, if I may ask?" She did not care at all, but it was her duty to inquire on seeing the lady obviously planning to leave the palace.

"Legolas is going to show me the forest," Gelinnas gave back, "and before he arrives, I'd better ride a round or two in the courtyard to accustom my horse to being outside again. He isn't used to spending so much time in a dark cave." She stroked the horse's neck and the beautiful animal made a low sound of approval.

Tauriel caught herself thinking that it was most endearing how caringly Gelinnas treated her mount, but the idea of Legolas riding to the forest with her was not altogether agreeable. "Very well," she stated, "have a pleasant ride." She dismounted her own horse, as Tuven and Glandir already had, and led it to its place on the opposite side of the cave.

When she left the stable and stepped into the courtyard, she saw Gelinnas riding around in a big circle. She stopped for a moment to marvel at the animal's perfect movements and the rider's excellent posture. Granted, they did know how to breed and train horses in the West, that much was for certain.

She was called by one of the watchmen at the main gate and walked towards him. As it turned out, there had been a mix-up in the shift system and he had been waiting to be replaced for two hours. His comrade had already left, which made Tauriel take a mental note to discipline him as soon as she got the chance. Oh, the small everyday problems one had to face as a captain!

She rolled her eyes and allowed the soldier, "Go find Lieutenant Alation. He makes the schedules, he will send someone to take your place." The guard nodded and set off in direction of the office, where Alation could usually be found at that time of the day.

Tauriel threw a hesitant glance at the now unguarded gate, but she figured that ten minutes would not do any harm and walked to the entrance of the royal quarters to report to the king about the unspectacular results of her control round.

Half an hour later she left the king's study, satisfied to be done with the report that was not exactly her favourite thing to do. On her way through the corridor she ran into Legolas, who was holding a pile of letters in one hand and a half-eaten apple in the other, which was apparently his lunch in the middle of a busy day. Tauriel exchanged a few nonchalant words with him and walked on, but then it dawned on her that the prince might have forgotten something.

"Legolas," she addressed him once more, "are you aware that your guest is currently waiting for you to take her for a ride in the forest?"

Legolas almost dropped his apple. "Good gracious! I completely forgot about that! I promised it to her yesterday, but this morning I found myself swamped with paperwork and there is no way I can spare the time." He displayed a guilty enough expression that it almost stopped Tauriel from laughing at him. "I'll go and tell her," he added, but Tauriel stopped him.

"I can do it if you want. I'm going to the courtyard anyway and you don't look as if you needed to deal with a disappointed princess right now."

"She has a name, you know," Legolas pointed out, grinning, "and she isn't altogether as spoiled as you may think. But since you offered it, I would be grateful if you could tell her."

"Of course," Tauriel gave back and took her leave.

Entering the courtyard, the first thing she noticed were the two new watchmen at the gate. Lady Gelinnas, however, was nowhere to be seen. So she had obviously given up waiting and taken her horse back inside, Tauriel reasoned. Just to be sure, she directed her steps to the stable cave once more.

She passed several magnificent white horses, but the particular one she was looking for was missing. Tauriel asked a stable boy if the lady had returned with her mount, but he was absolutely certain that she had not.

"Eru, give me patience!" she spat and rushed towards her own horse, leaving the bewildered stable boy to his confusion. She only put the bridle on the black stallion and did not bother with a saddle.

"Sorry, mellon, your shift isn't over yet," she whispered to the animal and was rewarded with a disapproving snort before she mounted and urged the horse to leave the cave as fast as the limited space allowed it.

Tauriel figured that Gelinnas could not have come far and had most likely not left the path, so she decided to save the time of gathering a search party and went after her on her own. Why in the names of all the Ainur the lady had left the palace by herself, Tauriel could not and did not wish to figure out. "Damn bloody princess!" she muttered as she passed the main gate and entered the forest.

The ground was muddy after the rain and the horse's hooves sank deeply into the soil. Tauriel detected another track of fresh hoof prints leading in the same direction, so she counted her blessings to have at least a little help.

She had already ridden for quite a while and passed the first watch post – which was unoccupied due to her own unwise planning, but who could have foreseen an incident like this – when she heard a suspicious rustling in the treetops above her. The horse pranced nervously as if it shared her uncomfortable inkling. Tauriel reached for her bow, just in case, and rode on, noticing that the rustling followed her.

A few seconds later she heard a panicked neigh and a shriek. "You hate me today, don't you?" she asked the Valar and made her horse race along the path in direction of the noises.

And indeed, what she saw behind the next turn did not surprise her at all: There was Lady Gelinnas, trying to calm her panicking horse. It had got tangled in the shrubbery at the edge of the path in its attempt to escape three spiders. The beasts were circling the animal and clicking their greedy fangs in anticipation of horse and Elf meat for lunch. Gelinnas was staring at them in horror and did not even notice Tauriel until she shot the first arrow and eliminated one of the spiders.

The creature shrieked and collapsed, making the other ones aware of the sudden threat. One of them decided to attack Tauriel, which did not worry her too much, as she had plenty of time to shoot it. The other one, however, took the opportunity to go for the prey while its companion was distracting the attacker. Tauriel quickly scanned the situation and made her decision. First she shot the spider that was coming for her, then she drew another arrow and aimed at the second one.

What she had not anticipated was Gelinnas' excellent horsemanship combined with her utter lack of better judgement. Somehow she convinced her horse to jump over the spider and dash off into the forest. Tauriel let out a sigh of exhaustion while her arrow pierced one of the beast's numerous eyes. She had not forgotten the alarming noises in the treetops, which were now moving very fast in direction of the escaping lady.

Tauriel apologised to her horse once more for putting him through all that trouble after the long border round, but what was the use of complaining? She followed Gelinnas' example, making her mount jump over the three dead spider bodies, and went after the fugitive.

Luckily for Tauriel, the lady had not come far before the two spiders that had caused the noises in the trees came down and attacked. Gelinnas' horse reared up in terror, but at least it did not run away again.

Tauriel shot one of the spiders, but her own horse took a sideways step and caused her arrow to miss the aim. "Stay still!" she hissed and drew another arrow, bringing down one of the beasts with the next shot, while the other was climbing up a tree trunk, obviously planning to attack her from above.

She reached for her quiver once more – and found it empty. Of course, she had not had the time to restock it after the border round! Fortunately she still had her daggers, but the seconds that had passed in the useless attempt to draw an arrow had given the spider sufficient time to prepare its attack. Now it was darting towards Tauriel and she already anticipated being thrown off the horse, when she suddenly saw something flying towards the creature, hitting it on the back and falling down into the mud. Tauriel could not distinguish what it was and she did not care either. The spider, however, was so surprised that it took its attention away from Tauriel for a moment to look at the undetermined object – time enough to draw a dagger and throw it right into its wide open mouth.

The spider's last shriek made Tauriel's heart slow down and her breathing go back to normal. She threw a quick glance upwards, but there was no further movement in the treetops. The next thing she looked at with equal parts of relief and reproach was Gelinnas. The poor girl was trembling all over and clinging to her horse's mane while tears started to run down her cheeks.

Tauriel let out a deep breath. "It's over," she finally said, "there is no danger anymore." She knew that her words would not make Gelinnas stop crying, but what else was there to say? She dismounted and walked over to the lady. Only in that moment did she realise that one of Gelinnas' shoes was missing. She looked to the ground and there it was, drenched in mud but having proven to be an excellent missile. Tauriel picked it up and handed it to Gelinnas.

"Thank you," the girl managed to say and put it back on her foot with a trembling hand.

Tauriel wanted to stop herself, given the miserable condition Gelinnas was in, but the words burst out of her nevertheless, "Why in Eru's name would you do that? Venturing into the forest all by yourself, that's madness! You knew this was a dangerous place!"

Gelinnas started sobbing even harder and gave back, "I did, but I would never have imagined it to be this horrible. I had heard about some big spiders, but I figured they would just be the size of squirrels or something, and certainly not this bloodthirsty."

Tauriel shook her head in exhaustion. An army of highly trained soldiers and a century-old, elaborate system of forest patrol designed to fight off squirrel-sized spiders? She refrained from any comment on that notion.

Instead she asked, "Why did you not wait for Leg-…, the prince?"

Gelinnas shrugged. "I was so disappointed that he had forgotten about me that I decided to take a look on my own. Just one short look. I didn't want to impose on him, you know. And then those beasts arrived…"

Despite her every principle, Tauriel stretched out her hand and put it on Gelinnas' arm. "It's fine, we got off cheaply," she heard herself say and with a look at the mud-drenched shoe she added, "good throw, by the way."

The young lady managed a weak smile. "Thank you. For the compliment and mostly for saving my life."

Tauriel rolled her eyes and felt her lips form a half grin. "That's what the king employs me for," she stated dryly and walked over to the last spider to pull her knife out of its throat.

'Great Eru, I beg you to make them leave again soon,' she caught herself thinking.


	21. Golden Cider

Although the sunrays were still warm enough for Nimiel to leave the caves without a cloak, she could not ignore the increasing number of red and yellow leaves on the trees. Autumn was approaching once again and in secret she was looking forward to her favourite time of the year. The harvest season, the storms that would blow away the foul odours of the darkening forest, children collecting chestnuts and acorns, the first crackling flames in the fireplaces during the long evening hours – Nimiel had always been fond of the autumn. She smiled and picked a dry leaf off her skirt while entering the corridor that led to the royal quarters.

After finishing her shift at the Houses of Healing she had paid a visit to her little herb plantation to refill her supplies. Now it was time to face the last challenge of the day: convincing the king of a few more than necessary modernisations in the healing quarters. Once again she checked the written list of measures she wanted him to sign off, just to be sure.

The first adversity she had to overcome in order to complete her quest was to find the king. She had not seen him in days and she was almost certain to know the reason for his scarce appearances. The guests from the late queen's kin had been staying in the Woodland Palace for more than two months and Thranduil, who had never been overly fond of disturbances to his daily routine, was slowly but steadily getting tired of playing host to them. Nimiel could not blame him for it. She had not seen much of them, but given her position at court, she had been introduced to them as well and spent her share of time in polite conversation.

The most agreeable one of the party was undoubtedly the young lady, a sweet-tempered, well-educated girl who showed genuine interest in all the new people and places the Woodland Palace had to offer. The lord was a pleasant fellow as well, given that one was interested in horses and tales of the sea. He did not care much about etiquette, which made him a refreshing contrast to his wife. Nimiel had disliked the lady from the moment she had first laid eyes on her. She could not quite figure out the reason – of course one part of it was the fact that Daenis' only recognition of Tauriel saving her daughter's life a few weeks ago had been a forced smile and a few studied words of appreciation. She still kept side-eyeing the captain, especially when she saw her in the company of the prince.

Nimiel shook her head in silence. It was more than obvious that Lady Daenis was forging out most specific plans regarding Legolas and her daughter. From an objective point of view there was nothing wrong with her intentions. Noble families had always preferred to marry their children to other nobility and no one could deny that Legolas and Gelinnas did indeed get along exceptionally well. Still, Nimiel felt slightly uncomfortable whenever she saw the two of them together, the truth being that she had never given up hope for Legolas and Tauriel to resolve their issues.

Of course she was happy for the prince; in fact she almost saw herself as a substitute mother figure to him, and who was she to begrudge him this chance of a romantic interest? However, she was not as blind as to overlook the obvious: There was still a lot more than mere friendship in the looks, gestures and words that Tauriel and Legolas shared and poor Tauriel was not taking too well to the sudden presence of Lady Gelinnas, although she was trying hard to appear cheerful and friendly. A sigh escaped Nimiel's lips; sometimes the Valar had a strange sense of humour.

She reached the door of the king's study and decided to try her luck. She knocked and indeed, after a while, she heard the noise of a shifting chair and footsteps.

"Enter!" the king's voice called and Nimiel fulfilled his request. She found herself walking into a mess of open books and parchment rolls, the desk was buried under various layers of maps, and a pile of battered quills as well as the nearly burnt-down candles indicated that the king had already spent a lot of time with his paperwork. Nimiel bowed to him, trying to hide her smile at his astonished and even slightly embarrassed expression.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?" he asked her when he had regained his royal composure, gracefully ignoring the infernal chaos around him.

Nimiel forced her eyes away from the piles of paper and parchment and replied unceremoniously, "I am seeking you out because I need you to sign off a few renovation measures at the Houses of Healing."

The king arched an eyebrow. "Again? Did you not have the healing quarters refurbished a few years ago?"

'May the games begin,' Nimiel thought and prepared herself to reel off her arguments in the order she had practised. "Two hundred and fourteen, to be precise," she pointed out. "The water damage in the storage units is starting to affect the durability of our supplies and there is mould growing in some of the treatment rooms. These are insupportable conditions in a place where people are supposed to recover their health." She felt her back ache due to the uncomfortably straight posture she had taken while making her point, all in order to appear determined.

The king nodded, a small frown on his forehead, but with the ghost of a smirk playing around the corners of his mouth. This was a battle they had often fought before. "As a regular attendant of the healing quarters I have never noticed the grievances you mentioned," he stated.

Nimiel retaliated immediately, "That is because I never take you to the affected parts, out of politeness. Maybe next time I should treat your face in one of the mildewed rooms and see how you like mould spores in your open wound." She was well aware of how disrespectfully she was speaking to her king and she would never have chosen these words in a public conversation, but she had a long-standing rule saying that whenever she was alone with him and he was not wearing his crown, he was simply Thranduil, a person she had known for millennia who could take a few honest words once in a while.

The strategy seemed to pay off. The king gave her another short frown, but then he shrugged and conceded, "Very well then, do whatever you need to do." Nimiel could not suppress the smirk of satisfaction that conquered her face and it did not go unnoticed by the king. She placed her list on his desk on top of a historical map of Greenwood that still showed the borders during Lord Oropher's reign. He got the hint and examined it with a sigh of pretended exhaustion before he took up a quill and put his signature under it.

"Thank you, my lord," Nimiel said and folded the list, "I will not keep you from your… occupation any longer." Her sceptical glance at the chaos made the king chuckle.

"Am I detecting a hint of judgement there?" he asked, trying to look severe but failing. "Granted, I may have caused poor Galion a permanent trauma when he walked in here an hour ago…"

"I cannot blame him," Nimiel admitted and made an attempt to turn around, but the king stopped her by stepping into her way.

"Wait a moment, will you? I have not seen you in a while – a most lamentable circumstance. So, if you are not bound by any pressing issues, I would like to offer you a glass of cider and the prospect of a friendly conversation."

For a moment Nimiel was too surprised at that fairly unusual offer to think of an answer, but then she decided to let her feeling win this round over her sense of propriety. "I suppose I can consent to your generous offer," she allowed and accepted the glass of apple cider the king had just poured from a carafe on his desk. She waited for him to fill another one for himself and proposed the ironic toast, "To black mould and chaos!"

"May we survive both of them!" the king gave back and they took a sip of the sweet beverage.

While looking for a place to set down her glass, Nimiel remarked, "It is true, we have not spoken in quite some time. One might assume you are hiding."

The king gave her a somewhat nervous glance. "Why would I hide in my own halls?" he asked back, already confirming her suspicion with his tone.

"Who can say?" she reasoned. "Maybe to avoid certain encounters?" She grinned and took another taste of her cider.

Thranduil's inner battle was plainly visible, but in the end he chose to give in, "I see that there is no deceiving you, my friend. Our guests have been wearing on my nerves lately. Well, actually it is mostly Lady Daenis. I know I am being a despicable host, but there is no use in denying that I will not regret their departure in three days." He took up his glass again as if to seek comfort in the sweetness of the drink.

Nimiel struggled not to look too amused. "I am not going to reproach you," she assured him. "Ten weeks can indeed be an eternity, depending on the company you spend them in." The king nodded in silence and for a moment they simply savoured the peace and quiet of mutual understanding and shared annoyance.

Soon enough another thought crossed Nimiel's mind and she could not resist mentioning, "Someone at least seems to enjoy the company of your guests. Your son has been spending a lot of time with the young lady."

"Indeed he has," Thranduil affirmed, not showing any emotion whatsoever and apparently unwilling to elaborate further on the subject that Nimiel was so interested in. She assessed him inquisitively and realised that he knew exactly what she was playing at.

Fighting back her frustration, she eventually chose curiosity over dignity and asked, "I do not mean to gossip, but do you believe that they might be forming an attachment?"

Thranduil shrugged nonchalantly and replied, "It is possible." As if everything had been said with these three rather unsatisfying words, he turned towards the desk and started examining one of the maps on it. Nimiel could have massacred him with her bare hands for such teasing. Finally he turned back towards her and graced her with his attention, the smirk on his face reflecting how much je enjoyed infuriating her. "If they were developing a mutual fondness, I would not be opposed to it. It is high time Legolas makes up his mind about choosing a wife."

A wife? Nimiel admitted to herself that she had not yet thought that far. "So Lady Gelinnas might be the one?" she probed. After a short pause of doubt she added, "Do you see her fit to meet your..., I mean Legolas' requirements?" She could not quite imagine that sweet but slightly clueless girl to be the future princess of the Woodland Realm.

"Whyever not?" Thranduil asked innocently and forced Nimiel to explain.

"She seems rather... young, in every possible sense. Would you really entrust your realm and your people to her and Legolas? Because that is what is on your mind, is it not?" There, she had said it!

She savoured the look of slight bewilderment on the king's face, before he conceded, "You know me too well, my dear Lady Nimiel. You are right, I have been pondering the notion of ceding my crown to Legolas one day, but probably not any time soon. I will not simply let go of my responsibility in times like these." His eyes wandered to the old map on the desk and lingered on the realm's southern border for a few seconds.

Nimiel tilted her head curiously and pointed out, "And yet, you have been restless and often distracted these last few years and I think I know what causes your condition. Has the longing for the sea finally caught up with you?" She had been observing the king for a while and recognised the unmistakable absent look in his eyes that befell all those who felt the urge to leave the shores of Arda.

Thranduil let out a deep breath and his shoulders relaxed. He leaned against the desk, swirling his glass. "I admit it has. Although I am not sure whether it is a true desire to sail west or simply the weariness of six thousand years. I am tired of worrying and fighting. I am feeling the sickness that has befallen the forest in my own body and mind. It would be a relief to turn my back to all this, but at the same time I feel I would rip out a part of my soul if I left the Greenwood and my people behind." He did not look as troubled as his words suggested, but rather nostalgic.

"Your departure would rip out a part of the forest's soul as well," Nimiel remarked, "but after everything you have done for the realm and its people, you certainly have the right to leave for fresh fields and pastures new, if that is your desire." Speaking the words made her realise that she would rather not imagine what life in the Woodland Palace would be like without the capricious, short-tempered, exhaustingly demanding monarch and she suppressed a heavy gulp.

Obviously her face was reflecting her thoughts against her will, because Thranduil gave her a reassuring smile and replied, "I do not think it is. I do not feel like leaving Legolas to his own judgement yet. Besides, was it not you who told me that this world was worth holding on to?"

"That sounds like something I would say," she gave back with a little too much relief in her voice that made a rare expression of warmth appear on the king's face.

He set down his glass on a pile of books and assessed her with friendly curiosity while he inquired, "So what about you? Do you long for the sea?" Nimiel tilted her head, not sure what to answer. The truth was that after more than five thousand years it would be most peculiar if she had never heard the call of the Undying Lands, but she did not feel ready to respond to it yet.

"Sometimes I do," she admitted, "but it is like you said: There is still too much here that I hold dear." She employed all her willpower not to smile at him while saying so, but her mind would not be stopped from adding, 'And you are well aware that this includes you, although you do not even deserve to know it.'

"I am glad to hear it," the king answered, "because I would have been very sorry to see you leave."

After that there was a short silence which felt like a hundred years to Nimiel. She tried to find something to do and the only thing she could think of was to empty her glass in one gulp. Not the wisest decision, as she found out an instant later when a very ungraceful coughing bout started to shake her entire body. She tried desperately to maintain at least a bit of dignity in the presence of the king, but it was a hopeless endeavour.

Thranduil watched her struggle for a few seconds, then he took the glass out of her hand without further ado and gave her a few solid slaps on the back, which actually helped her catch her breath again.

"Thank you," she managed to rasp, feeling her cheeks flush crimson.

The king chuckled and pointed out, "You are welcome. It would cast a very bad light on me if the head of the healing quarters were found suffocated in my study."

"How considerate of you," Nimiel stated, realising that his hand was still resting on her back and that she was not at all opposed to its presence.

Suddenly a knock at the door sliced through the moment, causing the king to pull back his hand and Nimiel to take a step back. Thranduil suppressed a grimace of annoyance when he all but barked his usual short order to enter.

The unsuspecting intruder was no one else than old Galion, who stepped into the study hesitantly and announced with a bow to the king and a respectful nod to Nimiel, "My lord, Lady Daenis wishes to speak to y-…" Before he had even finished his line, the elleth in question had already entered the study as if she had never heard of any court protocol whatsoever. Nimiel felt a wave of indignation rise in her chest at such impoliteness.

Lady Daenis stopped at realising that the king was not alone. She frowned slightly, but she quickly regained her detached expression and greeted him, "My lord, I am sorry to interrupt, but I have something to discuss with you. If I may…?" The last question was directed at Nimiel, who could not even wrap her mind around that impertinent attempt of simply commanding her to leave. Lady Daenis had obviously fallen victim to a crucial misunderstanding about their respective positions.

Nimiel blinked a few times to regain control of her face and forced her voice to transport all the poise of her Sindarin upbringing when she answered, "Of course you may – as soon as the king and I have resolved on the issue we were just negotiating. I will be happy to let you know on my way out." She graced the lady with her sweetest smile and from the corner of her eyes she noticed Galion's struggle not to start laughing. Daenis could not quite hide her agitation, but in the end she managed to pull herself together, gave the king a short nod and rushed out of the study again, followed by the almost choking butler.

When the door had closed, Nimiel looked back at the king, who was assessing her with equal parts of amusement and sincere admiration. "My lady, you deserve my utmost respect," he admitted.

Nimiel accepted the compliment with a bow of her head. "I was merely proving a point," she stated dryly, remembering to pick up the list she had brought. "I will not keep the lady from her urgent business for long. Thank you for the cider." With a somewhat awkward smile she bowed to the king and took her leave.

* * *

><p>Thranduil watched Nimiel close the door behind herself and let out a deep breath. Right before the door opened again, he managed to get rid of the smile that was still lingering around the corners of his mouth. Lady Daenis came back in and repeated her earlier routine of a bow and a respectful greeting, doing fairly well at pretending that nothing had happened. The king straightened up and put on his long-studied, friendly but indifferent business face. "My lady," he addressed the visitor, "how may I help you?"<p>

"Thank you for receiving me on such short notice," Daenis opened her speech, obviously trying hard to focus on his face instead of the general chaos around him.

The king nodded nonchalantly and assured her, "You are welcome. So, what is the pressing matter that brings you here?" He wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible and made no effort to hide his intention.

Lady Daenis gave him a smile and started, "As you know, our departure is not far ahead."

'Thank Eru for that,' Thranduil stated to himself, before she continued, "In fact, it is a shame that we must leave just now." She stepped a little closer to him, as if she were executing a carefully planned choreography, and cut to the point in an almost conspiratorial tone, "the reason being that I could not help but notice a certain mutual partiality between your son and my daughter."

Of course, what else? Thranduil refrained from sighing in exhaustion. Instead he asked innocently, "Is that so?"

"Indeed," Lady Daenis affirmed, "and I was thinking, maybe we should let Gelinnas stay a little while longer to give them the opportunity to get to know each other better."

Thranduil pondered the thought for a moment and came to the conclusion that, as long as her parents would not insist on staying as well, that idea was not the worst one ever uttered within these walls. Nevertheless he objected, "Your husband would certainly not approve of leaving his daughter in the very place he blames for the loss of his cousin." He thanked the Valar for six thousand years of diplomatic training that enabled him to speak these words calmly.

Not much to his surprise, Lady Daenis only shook her head. "You would not be intimidated by him, would you? Andor is good with his horses, whereas I am good with people. Gelinnas is my youngest child and my only daughter, so it will pain me to part with her for anyone. But if it were dear Legolas, who is practically family, at least my heart would ache less. Who am I to stand in the way of my child's happiness?"

Thranduil only just stopped himself from rolling his eyes. "Or rather your own?" he could not resist remarking.

A nearly invisible shadow of annoyance flickered over Daenis' perfectly composed features and she took a split of a second too long to reply, "In these dark times we all have to choose our allies wisely, King Thranduil."

'Now we're getting to it,' the king stated to himself with a somewhat misplaced sense of victory and looked at her firmly while clarifying, "I will not force my son to marry for the sake of politics." It was true, he did not have the intention to impose marriage on Legolas against his will, however favourable his own opinion of Lady Gelinnas as a daughter-in-law might be.

"No one wants to force anything," Daenis hurried to explain, "but a little careful prodding cannot hurt, can it? Or am I to assume that you would prefer your son to pledge himself to one of your Silvan subjects?"

Her last remark made Thranduil lose his composure for an instant. Who would have thought that this harpy would actually manage to put her finger on one of his sore spots? Apparently there was a good reason for her reputation as an especially cunning politician.

"Most certainly not," he admitted dryly, not failing to notice the sly smile his reaction had caused.

"My lord," she said almost soothingly and took another two steps towards him, resting her hand lightly on the edge of his desk, "as you know, in our home we rear our horses with extraordinary care. We choose only the purest ones with the most excellent endowments to breed and give them the best possible training. We teach them to be obedient, loyal and graceful and if they do not meet our high requirements at once, we go through the lessons again and again until they are worthy of our good name. This way we make them outshine even the noble steeds of Rohan."

She picked up a marble paperweight in the shape of a tiny horse and twirled it between her fingers. Thranduil was already sensing where this monologue was going and cringed internally as his intuition was proven right. "I have taken the same care in bringing up my daughter. She is like a precious gem, polished and rare, and she would certainly make an exquisite adornment for your court."

A slight feeling of disgust made the king take in a sharp breath. "My lady, I believe you have made your point," he replied coldly and took the paperweight out of her hands.

Daenis closed her eyes in frustration, but she managed to force her mouth to smile again immediately – this time a little more determinedly than before. "You and I are more alike than you think," she claimed, "We both have our family's best interest in mind. Consider my offer, King Thranduil. Given the circumstances, neither of us can be picky in terms of alliances."

She had a point, that much was for certain. Scaring off a potential ally against the evil that was brewing in Arda was not the wisest move. Besides, what harm could come from letting the girl stay in the palace a while longer? It would not be viewed as a definite consent; after all it was quite common for the offspring of noble families to spend some time away from home for educational purposes. He had sent Legolas to Imladris a few centuries ago, so why not accept Gelinnas as a more permanent guest?

Thranduil resolved to be a generous host for once and conceded, "My lady, if it is your daughter's wish, she is welcome to stay as long as she desires."

Daenis graced him with a victorious smile. "I never doubted your wisdom for a second."

* * *

><p>Tauriel made no effort to cover up her bad mood when she was descending the stairs to the training yard, followed by Sidhril.<p>

"Come on, you should at least try not to look like you're attempting to murder her!" Sidhril teased her, but all Tauriel could do was roll her eyes.

"I might," she grumbled, tightening her grip around the two bows she was carrying.

She was on her way to one of the most undesirable missions of her whole career. A few days earlier Lord Andor and Lady Daenis had started their return journey to the West – however, who was still gracing the Woodland Palace with her presence was their daughter. She was apparently going to spend an indefinite time in Greenwood for purposes of education and experience. Tauriel did not even want to imagine what that might imply, given that Legolas was obviously very much impressed by the girl. He spent a lot of time with her, showing her around the palace, discussing every educated topic from history to poetry with her, pretending to be fascinated by every horse story she told him… Tauriel shook her head; it was enough to drive her up the wall!

Not that she was jealous – Eru forbid, why would she? She and Legolas had resolved to be friends because it was the most reasonable way for them to proceed. But as his friend, Tauriel was concerned for… Yes, what was it again that concerned her? Right, Legolas' likelihood to rush into the decision of attaching himself to that girl he had known for barely three months.

Tauriel threw a glance at Sidhril, who was grinning a little meanly from one ear to the other. "What?" the captain snapped.

"Nothing, nothing at all," Sidhril insisted and Tauriel gave her an ice-cold glare. How in Eru's name had she even ended up with the assignment to teach Gelinnas the basics of self-defence? Granted, if she was to stay in the Woodland Realm, she should certainly know how to stand her own ground, especially after the earlier incident in the forest.

Since Tauriel had saved her life, Gelinnas had somehow gotten the idea that the captain should become her new best friend, and although Tauriel could not deny that she felt flattered and even a little touched by that unexpected offer of affection, she did not look forward to spending more time than necessary with her. But Gelinnas had sounded so hopeful while asking her to be her teacher that a no, even along with a plausible excuse, had seemed too cruel to Tauriel.

She pushed the door of the training yard open and mentally prepared herself for a short dagger duel with Sidhril that they had been planning to squeeze into their schedules for several days. Tauriel did not get many opportunities to take out her blades anymore, so she was grateful for every chance to keep herself in shape.

What the two soldiers had not anticipated was that Gelinnas had apparently had a similar idea. Tauriel froze between two of the giant stalagmites when she saw that the lady had already arrived, accompanied by no other than Legolas. Judging from his gestures and his stern expression while holding up his bow, he was obviously trying to explain to her how the mechanics of the weapon worked and how one was supposed to hold it. 'Why doesn't he do the teaching himself then?' Tauriel asked herself silently, catching and returning Sidhril's disbelieving look.

"Let's come back later," Tauriel suggested under her breath.

Sidhril held her back and whispered, "I absolutely want to see this!" At first Tauriel was not sure whether she shared her friend's interest, but in the end they decided to stay quiet and observe the spectacle for a while.

Legolas had set up a wooden target and was about to demonstrate the correct way of aiming. When he had released his arrow and hit the centre, he drew another one and handed the bow to his hesitant student. "Left hand here, right hand on the string," Tauriel heard him explain and could barely stop herself from grinning at the ever so slight hint of impatience in his voice.

Gelinnas grabbed the bow and tightened the string, dropping the arrow in the process. "Oh, I'm sorry," she apologised, but Legolas did not say anything, simply picked up the arrow and gave it back to her.

"Now bend it again," he instructed. "Remember, the arrow is the prolongation of your arm and your arm is your visual axis." Gelinnas nodded hectically, focussing on the target.

"Elbereth, how hard it is to pull this string!" she exclaimed, the distraction causing her to let go of the arrow and shoot it towards a stalagmite approximately twelve feet from the target. Sidhril and Tauriel exhaled simultaneously and exchanged a compassionate look.

Legolas was obviously fighting a violent battle against his urge to laugh, but in the end he succeeded and stoically drew a new arrow. "All right, let's start over," he suggested. Gelinnas displayed an all but desperate expression, but she nodded bravely and aimed once more.

"No, seriously, this is not going to work!" Legolas interjected after watching the tragedy for a few seconds. "Let me show you."

He stepped behind her and made her shift her upper body a few degrees, then guided her arm in the right direction and helped her bend the bow. Tauriel almost snorted on seeing how close he was standing, but that was nothing compared to the excruciatingly charming smile of gratitude that Gelinnas gave him.

"Eyes on the target would help a lot!" Tauriel hissed in Sidhril's ear.

Her friend just shrugged and whispered back, "Oh, I think they are right on it." Tauriel gave her another glare, although she could not deny the fairly painful truth in her words.

She was interrupted when Legolas suddenly exclaimed, "Eru! I still need this hand!"

Tauriel instantly turned towards them and saw that Gelinnas had apparently let go of the arrow before Legolas had been able to remove his hand, which was now bleeding from a small graze wound.

"Sorry, I'm so sorry!" the girl apologised once more, guiltily biting her lip.

"That's it!" Tauriel resolved, "She can do with him whatever she wants, but as soon as she harms him, it's my duty to intervene! I'm supposed to guard him after all."

Sidhril encouraged her with a nod and said, "Fine, I'll better take my leave then. Be brave, Captain!" With an ironic eye-rolling, which Tauriel returned in almost as much as desperation, Sidhril left the training yard.

After taking a last deep breath, Tauriel braced herself for the inevitable and stepped out of her hiding place. Gelinnas and Legolas were already in the middle of another shot, which did not even look as doomed as the ones before – until Gelinnas became aware of Tauriel's presence. Within a mere blink she turned towards her, lost focus on the bowstring and accidentally released it. The arrow would have gone right into Tauriel's chest if Legolas had not given the bow a life-saving knock to the side in the very last moment.

The arrow landed on the floor a few feet behind Tauriel. She closed her eyes and buried her fingernails in her palm, vaguely realising that Gelinnas stuttered, "Excuse me, Captain, that was unintentional…"

"I know, don't worry," Tauriel interrupted her and could not resist adding. "Although I have to say, I expected the archer who would one day manage to kill me to have hit a mark at least once before."

Gelinnas' face instantly turned crimson – and so did Legolas', but maybe for different reasons. He gave Tauriel an awkward grin and muttered, "Well, now that you're here, I should leave the two of you to your lesson." He quickly took his bow from Gelinnas' hands, trying to reciprocate the smile she gave him as subtly as he could, but it did not escape Tauriel's notice. "Good luck!" he shouted over his shoulder from halfway to the door and Tauriel could not quite determine for which one of them the wish was intended.

As soon as they were alone, Tauriel swallowed her frustration and gave Gelinnas a fairly convincing yet indifferent smile. "So, I see you have already prepared yourself," she said for lack of a better introduction.

"Well," the girl gave back, sceptically examining the two differently shaped bows that Tauriel had brought, "the truth is that I was afraid to make a complete fool of myself in front of you, so I asked Legolas to show me the basics in advance. So much for my honourable intention!" She frowned and displayed an awkward grimace. A moment later her expression suddenly changed while she added, "But you have to admit that for an absolute beginner it is not bad to make the prince bleed and almost impale the Captain of the Guard within mere minutes, right?" An ironic smirk subtly curved her lips.

Tauriel had to process her words twice before she realised that she had not thought Gelinnas capable of such self-mockery. Against her will it made a chuckle escape her mouth. "Indeed, you do deserve credit for that, my lady," she conceded.

"Please, call me Gelinnas," it came back along with a perfectly poised but genuine smile.

Tauriel was still slightly confused, so the only answer she could think of was, "Well then, shall we begin?" For some inexplicable reason she was not so sure about her complete and utter reluctance to spend time with that girl anymore. Maybe, just maybe, this would not be the most horrible mission of her career after all.


	22. Grey Cobwebs

"Great Eru! Watch where you… Oh, it's you. Are you all right?" Tauriel rubbed the bruise on her forehead that she had just earned by hastily rushing around one of the countless dark corners in the royal quarters and bumping into a no less baffled Legolas.

"Yes," the prince mumbled while subtly taking his weight off the foot Tauriel had just stepped on, "what about you?"

"Of course," she assured him with a pained grimace, "you know I've got a hard skull."

"I'll grant you that," Legolas gave back.

They stared at each other for a few seconds and Tauriel could read from his face that he was about to say something but struggling with the decision to spill it out. She cursed the circumstances that forced her to interrupt him, but unfortunately she neither had the time nor the peace of mind for a conversation. "You know what, I have to run," she apologised and made an attempt to squeeze past him in the narrow corridor.

He held her back and muttered hectically, "Tauriel, I need to speak with you. If now is not a good time, then it can be later, but it's important."

She looked up at him and the urgency in his face made her cringe internally. She wanted to do him the favour, but there was a whole mountain of duties waiting for her and she did not fancy another encounter with a discontent and impatient king, like the one she had just had the privilege of enduring. On top of all that, talking to Legolas was not her favourite pastime at the moment, given that most of the time he could be seen in the company of Lady Gelinnas – or maybe that was just Tauriel's impression.

Some months ago there had still been nothing but the usual rumours and speculations about the nature of their relationship, but in the meantime no one at the palace could pretend ignorance regarding the prince's romantic involvement with the visitor from the West. Tauriel simply did not allow herself to take any position towards that circumstance, let alone ask herself how she felt about it. There was no doubt that the two of them were perfect for each other and Tauriel could wholeheartedly state that Gelinnas was a lovely girl whom she granted all the happiness in the world. For that reason she felt guilty whenever seeing both of them together gave her that familiar little sting right through the deepest, darkest corner of her soul. It was simply wrong, she should be happy for them! And she was, of course she was – yet she could not stop herself from avoiding their company whenever the stings became too painful.

Using her current busy schedule as an excuse, she explained to Legolas, "I just spoke to your father and he's really displeased with the situation in the forest."

"You mean the… travelling party?" he asked, not sure how to name the strange group of intruders the Forest Guard had been observing for several days.

Tauriel nodded, "That and the particularly resistant spider swarm we've been eliminating over and over again. Some of them always escape and find a place to build a new nest, which attracts more of their kind from the South." She exhaled in frustration. Sometimes the Valar seemed to take a wicked enjoyment in throwing all sorts of adversities at her at once. "Still," she allowed after a short pause, "I understand the king's point: We don't need spiders – or trespassers – running loose in the forest right before Mereth nuin Giliath."

"I see," Legolas stated, looking at least a little distracted from his own concerns. "How about I take care of the spiders for you? I could spare the time to put together a unit and track them down, so the Forest Guard can keep looking out for the travellers."

For an instant Tauriel wondered at the unexpected eagerness in his voice, but she did not think about it further and accepted gratefully, "That would be a huge help, thank you! Although… I think it would be more practical if you took the travellers." She hoped he would not ask her for a reason because the plain and simple truth was that she had been under so much pressure lately that she was afraid to explode if she did not get to shoot something soon. Luckily Legolas agreed without further questions and they parted in order to complete their respective tasks.

* * *

><p>The thickness of the air, the whispering shadows and the weariness that befell the guards while making their way through the area where the spider swarm had last been seen was unusual even for the Greenwood. Tauriel almost got the impression that the forest not only harboured dangerous creatures looking out for their next prey, but that it had become a hunter itself. It seemed to apply all its tricks and dark secrets in order to attract and capture those unfortunate beings unable to resist its luring promises.<p>

The captain had no doubt as to who the forest was trying to bewitch. It had given up on the Eldar a long time ago, because even though the evil beneath the trees grew stronger with every year that passed, the Woodland people would not be drawn in by its enchantments. But whenever someone from the outside was foolish enough to enter the shadows, the forest took its chance.

The Forest Guard had encountered some very likely victims a few days earlier: A group of travellers had been spotted on the Forest Path. So far so good; though it only happened once or twice a century, unfortunate travellers getting lost in Greenwood gave Tauriel no reason to be alarmed. This particular travelling party, however, consisted of Dwarves. Dwarves were an entirely different story. For one thing, the king was still not overly fond of them and preferred them to stay out of his realm. For another, Dwarves had not been seen so close to the former city of Erebor since the dragon had conquered it.

Tauriel had chosen not to intervene because she relied on the forest's tendency to solve problems of that kind on its own sooner or later. Still, she was not entirely comfortable with leaving the Dwarves to their fate, so she had ordered two watchmen to follow them quietly, just in case. They had reported the usual: The Dwarves had lost the path and wandered off into the more unpleasant parts of the forest and were now facing all the ugly consequences of their imprudence; hallucinations, water poisoning and starvation being only three of the many delights Greenwood had to offer.

As long as the Dwarves had suffered from their own stupidity without affecting the residents of the forest, neither Tauriel nor the king had deemed it necessary to do anything about the situation. However, several villagers had complained to the Forest Guard about feeling disturbed and threatened by the intruders, which Thranduil had taken as an opportunity to give Tauriel a more than unpleasant lecture about responsibility and negligence of duties. She rolled her eyes while thinking of it. So now it was decided: The Dwarves were going to be captured, interrogated and most likely imprisoned. Tauriel could not deny that she was grateful for Legolas' willingness to take that task off her hands.

For now it was the spiders she had to worry about. The seven soldiers had discovered what appeared to be the remains of their destroyed nest. Sticky grey threads and shredded webs covered the trees and the air smelled even fouler than in the rest of the forest, but there were no spiders to be seen. As the guards went closer, they discovered several dead ones lying on the ground in their own blood, most of them savagely stabbed with some sort of crude weapon, a few simply torn to pieces.

Tauriel exchanged a glance with Etheldir, who was struggling to control his bewilderment. "These spiders weren't killed by the Forest Guard," he observed, "and whatever it was that slew them, I'm not sure I approve of its presence." Tauriel nodded and gulped at the possibility of yet another intruder to get rid of.

"Captain!" one of the other soldiers called and held up what looked like a piece of garment that he had found between a dead spider's fangs. Tauriel examined it more closely. It was a cloak, but not of elvish fashion and far too short for any Elda to wear. Should the dwarven travelling party have killed all those spiders? If that was indeed the case, Tauriel would have to allow herself to be thoroughly impressed. Of course it was also very possible that something else had eliminated both the spiders and the Dwarves, so she decided to investigate the matter.

As it turned out, the muddy ground revealed several heavy, Dwarf-sized footprints, and some recently broken twigs and fresh scratch marks on the tree trunks indicated that a few spiders had survived the massacre and set out to hunt the Dwarves. The guards took up pursuit and indeed, after no more than half an hour of simply walking through the forest, with occasional glances at the footprints comfortably spread before their eyes like signposts, their search appeared to be successful. Tauriel could not help but shake her head in awe at the wake of devastation those clumsy Dwarves had left along their way. The spider tracks had vanished, but Tauriel still suspected the beasts somewhere near, observing their prey and waiting for an opportunity to attack.

She could hear the Dwarves even though they were still a substantial distance ahead, separated from the guards by thick elder bushes and juniper trees, and wondered how they had survived in the forest for so long, being incredibly noisy and altogether unsubtle in their manner of moving, speaking, even breathing. She signalled her soldiers to halt and draw their weapons.

"We're only going to arrest them," she reminded them, "no violence unless they offer resistance!"

The guards nodded, preparing to advance into the coppice, but before Tauriel had even given the order, there was another movement between the elder bushes. All seven guards immediately pointed their arrows at the source of the noise, but fortunately a hushed voice stopped them from shooting, "Relax, it's us!"

Tauriel let out a deep breath and rolled her eyes while lowering her bow. Legolas and his unit emerged from the coppice and the prince gave Tauriel a victorious smirk.

"Captain, I am happy to inform you that we have found your spiders," he whispered, causing Tauriel to retaliate, "Congratulations, Your Highness! And we have found your Dwarves."

"Shall we join forces then?" the prince offered graciously.

The captain crossed her arms and sighed ironically, "Fine, if I have no other choice…" They grinned at each other for a second, but the presence of eleven guards reminded them to behave professionally again.

Tauriel ceded the command of her soldiers to Legolas – a courtesy she only considered because the Special Operations Unit frequently worked together with both her and the prince and she did not want to cause confusion – and stayed behind to cover their backs while they arrested the Dwarves. She watched them vanish in the coppice and soon the noises told her that this part of the mission had come to a successful ending.

She was just about to join her comrades again when she heard a suspicious rustling in the tree tops – and of course a moment later she saw the bristled legs and the black bodies of six spiders moving in direction of the guards and Dwarves. 'Looks like I'll get to shoot something after all,' she thought and gave the first spider short shrift by sending a quick arrow into one of its numerous eyes. The other five, unable to locate the attacker in her hiding place in the shadow of a giant elm, hissed in fury and crawled off in direction of Tauriel's companions. She climbed a tree and followed them across the branches because it would have been impossible to keep up with them on the ground full of shrubbery.

Once she had reached the clearing where the guards and Dwarves were assembled, she did not get the chance to take a closer look at the strange, cobweb-covered travelling party because a particularly greedy spider just grabbed one of the Dwarves by the leg. With a disbelieving sigh Tauriel drew her daggers and jumped off the tree, using another one of the beasts as a stepping stone, before she started slicing and stabbing her way to the imprudent Dwarf. How could he be so utterly unaware of his surroundings? The next minute he even had the boldness to ask her for a weapon, but she only raised an eyebrow and eliminated the last remaining spider with an unerring knife. Legolas and the guards calmly watched the spectacle; their captain facing down five bloodthirsty beasts with perfect ease was quite a common sight to them, as she acknowledged with unveiled pride.

Finally she was able to catch a glimpse of the Dwarves while the soldiers disarmed them. There were thirteen of them and despite the fact that they had massacred a whole nest full of spiders, they did not appear too dangerous at all, but rather miserable and starved. Some of them looked strangely familiar to Tauriel – she thought they resembled the ones she had seen in Erebor – but of course she could be mistaken. Most Dwarves looked alike to her. The one she had just saved from the spider, however, seemed a little more recognisable than his companions, although it took Tauriel a while to figure out that the reason was simply the absence of the usual hideous amount of hair on his face.

Legolas interrupted her contemplation by asking her if she had eliminated all the spiders. "Yes," she affirmed with a frown, "but you know there will soon be new ones. I have the feeling that they're growing bolder every year." He returned her worried expression, but the next moment Etheldir approached him and handed him a sword he had just taken from the leader of the Dwarf party. Surprisingly enough it turned out to be an ancient and very valuable blade forged by the Eldar of Gondolin. To Legolas' question of how he had come by this weapon the Dwarf claimed that it had been given to him.

Legolas and Tauriel exchanged a disapproving glance. If, after entering their realm without permission and rousing the spiders, those Dwarves still had the nerve to lie to them, the only reasonable measure was to take them to the palace and imprison them.

* * *

><p>The cell door slammed shut and Tauriel could not help but allow the shadow of a smirk to curl her lips. That beardless Dwarf, as careless and clumsy as he had been in the forest, obviously possessed a quick wit and a surprising sense of humour. Not only had he just been bold enough to throw the crudest imaginable attempt of flirting at a heavily armed elven guard, he also did not seem to mind her not so courteous answer and kept grinning at her through the bars of his door.<p>

On turning around to leave the dungeons, Tauriel passed Legolas, who did not look too pleased at all. She wondered what might be bothering him, but he saved her the trouble of inquiring by hissing at her, "Why is that Dwarf staring at you?"

Tauriel needed a moment to process his question and another one to wrap her mind around the reproachful expression that went along with it. She resisted the urge to glare at him in disbelief and ask him why he would even care. Instead she gave him a hint of a grin and replied just provocatively enough for him to notice, "Who can say? He is tall for a Dwarf… Don't you think?" She did not stay to savour his undoubtedly startled expression and vaguely heard him mutter something about the Dwarf still being as ugly as the rest of them while she was walking away.

Granted, she would have enjoyed teasing him a little more. He deserved it – given the existence of his little Sindarin princess, he of all people had no right whatsoever to complain about men trying to flirt with her, be it Eldar, Dwarves or even Trolls, for all she cared! But unfortunately there was no time for silly games of revenge. She was expected to report to the king about the outcome of the spider search.

"Remember, I still have that important thing to talk to you about!" Legolas shouted after her. Tauriel just nodded and gave him a reassuring wave of her hand.

* * *

><p>When Thranduil heard the squeaking of the door, the first thought that crossed his mind was, 'Get out of here and leave me alone, in Eru's name!' His earlier encounter with the Dwarf lord, who called himself Thorin Oakenshield and was apparently on a quest to reconquer Erebor, had irritated the king on every possible level and all he wished for was some peace and quiet to organise his thoughts. That was why he had come down all the way to the cave with the hot spring. Contemplating the bubbling water and listening to its soothing sounds usually helped him untangle his ideas.<p>

However, he remembered that the captain still owed him a report about the incidents in the forest and judging by the hesitant footsteps on the stone floor the visitor was indeed Tauriel. He took a deep breath. The spiders and Dwarves were not the only issue he was planning to bring up – but one step at a time.

The captain seemed reluctant to make her presence known, but Thranduil did not feel inclined to prolong this conversation more than necessary, so he addressed her, "I know you are there. Why do you linger in the shadows?"

His remark finally made her step into the light and bow to him. "I was coming to report to you," she pointed out somewhat obviously and struggled in vain to hide her insecurity. Under normal circumstances he would not have minded, but in his present state of irritation he did not make any effort to be gentle and cut straight to the point.

"I thought I ordered that nest to be destroyed not two moons past."

It was not a question and it caused Tauriel's jaw to clench for a moment before she explained with a nearly unnoticeable tremble in her voice, "We cleared the forest as ordered, my lord, but more spiders keep coming up from the South." Her tension was plainly visible and she obviously could not stand still, so she started to pace back and forth in order to maintain her composure. Thranduil had known his captain's restless nature for long enough to ignore her anxiety, especially after the admittedly harsh lecture she had received from him earlier that day.

However, his resolve to be patient with her was undermined as soon as she brought up a notion that he had tried to get out of her stubborn head almost as long as she had been captain. "They're spawning in the ruins of Dol Guldur," Tauriel pointed out, "if we could kill them at their source…"

"That fortress lies beyond our borders," Thranduil interrupted her as calmly as he could and added, "keep our lands clear of those foul creatures, that is your task!"

Anyone else would have taken these words as his final order, but not Tauriel, of course. Once more Thranduil wondered what had possessed him to make this impertinent elleth his Chief of Guards in the first place. But then again, did she not remind him all too much of himself at that age?

"And when we drive them off – what then?" Tauriel asked, seemingly unaware of the thin ice she was walking on by challenging her king's opinion. "Will they not spread to other lands?"

Thranduil could only just keep himself from sighing in exhaustion. "Other lands are not my concern." The look of pure disbelief on Tauriel's face urged him to add, "The fortunes of the world will rise and fall, but here in this kingdom we will endure."

He would have gone on with yet another lecture about politics if there had not been a strange noise in the opposite part of the cave that attracted his attention. He turned towards it – but there was nothing to be seen but crude rocks and water. His nerves were obviously playing a trick on him, and who could blame them after such a day?

Apparently Tauriel had taken his turning away from her as a dismissal, but suddenly he remembered that he was not done with her yet. How to bring up his next subject as elegantly as possible? Granted, Tauriel was nothing but a soldier and certainly not too accomplished in polite conversation either, but he had made it a personal principle of his never to neglect his poise in any kind of company.

"Legolas said you fought well today," he pointed out casually for lack of a better introduction, given that she had already walked a few steps towards the door. The unexpected praise made her turn around and smile at him shyly, a rare and admittedly heart-warming sight. What a shame that his next words would most likely wipe that beautiful smile right off her face again.

"He has grown very fond of you," Thranduil remarked, not failing to notice Tauriel's expression all but falling apart. For Eru's sake, how surprised could she possibly be? Did she take him for a fool? He had watched the undignified spectacle between his son and the captain for long enough and now that it had finally ended and Legolas had found a more suitable partner, Thranduil would do everything in his power to keep the situation unchanged. He had noticed that despite the prince's obvious affection for Lady Gelinnas he still seemed to have some partiality left for the captain that went beyond mere camaraderie. It was the worst possible time for any nostalgic feelings to resurface and the king would not let all the subtle probing, encouraging and persuading he had done with Legolas be in vain – not now!

He assessed Tauriel thoroughly. Under his gaze she managed to say hectically, "I assure you, my lord, Legolas thinks of me as no more than a Captain of the Guard."

Thranduil could clearly see her distress and he could have left it at that, but after a moment of pondering his options he decided not to be merciful with her and answered, "Perhaps he did once. Now I am not so sure." He walked past her to pour himself a glass of wine and even without looking at her he did not have the slightest doubt that his words had unsettled her.

After a short silence Tauriel said slowly, "I do not think you would allow your son to pledge himself to a lowly Silvan Elf?"

"You are right, I would not," Thranduil affirmed, forcing his voice to sound casual but firm, and although he felt sorry for putting her through this irritating conversation, he needed to complete it by saying, "Still, he cares about you. Do not give him hope where there is none."

Even from where he was standing he could hear Tauriel's heavy gulp. He turned around, but she was still facing the other direction. Nevertheless her posture and her fingernails buried in her palms told him all he needed to know. So it was not only Legolas who struggled with his feelings. 'Great Eru, will you not spare me anything?' Thranduil caught himself thinking.

"Captain, you may be dismissed," he ordered Tauriel in his usual business-like voice. She did not hesitate a moment to fulfil his request.

* * *

><p>Walking through the dungeons felt extremely strange since not only one or two but a whole of thirteen cells were occupied. The Dwarves had been imprisoned for two days and until now they were living up to their reputation of being stubborn as… well, as Dwarves. None of them, least of all their leader, who had indeed turned out to be the former Prince of Erebor, were willing to reveal any more information about their quest than what the king had already found out.<p>

Tauriel shook her head thoughtfully. Slaying a dragon was an all but impossible endeavour and who but those Dwarves should know that? For their own good it was the most reasonable decision to keep them in prison until they abandoned their suicidal plan – which was not likely to happen soon, as Tauriel suspected. On the other hand she could see their motivation. All they wanted was to reclaim their homeland. Maybe along with their treasure, but it was certainly not the strangest notion to long for a place to call home. From an outside point of view, the inhabitants of the Woodland Realm probably seemed just as foolish for not abandoning their poisoned, ever darkening forest, but it was their home and they loved it despite all the shadows and dangers it harboured.

The captain made her way past the cells, forcing herself not to look at the Dwarves who were staring at her hostilely. It was her duty to do a control round every evening before the change of guards and she had never minded it so far, but the dungeons' current residents made her feel very uncomfortable with that task.

The prison guard was throwing nervous glances at the hourglass on the wall. His replacement was late and he was apparently hoping to leave soon, although he was too polite to voice his concern. Tauriel knew him to be a very dutiful soldier, so she allowed him to take his leave and decided to stay until the next guard arrived. That would give her the opportunity to remind him of the importance of punctuality.

After taking the keys and putting them into her pocket, she sat down on the stairs opposite one of the cells and let her eyes wander through the dark corridor. Soon her thoughts ended up with the king again, more precisely with the conversation he had forced upon her two days ago. 'Legolas has grown very fond of you' and 'Do not give him hope where there is none' – the words still echoed in her head and would not leave her alone.

Why would the king bring up that subject now that Legolas was involved with Gelinnas? Tauriel knew Thranduil well enough to suspect a deeper meaning behind his words, but she could not figure out his purpose in warning her away from his son just now. Was it not obvious that there was no danger of her interfering in the prince's new relationship? She had resisted the urge to ask the king that question directly and instead she had resorted to the fairly straightforward remark about her being a lowly Silvan who would certainly never meet the king's approval as a companion for his son. She had not hoped for any other answer than the one he had granted her and still his words had hurt almost as much as his disdainful tone while saying them.

A sigh escaped Tauriel's lips. 'Grown very fond of you…' What in Eru's name did that even mean? Certainly, she and Legolas had not yet forgotten the time when there had been more than friendship between them, but was his fondness of Gelinnas not proof enough for his change of heart? Tauriel felt her hand clench into a fist and she could not resist the urge of slamming it into the stone wall, making her knuckles bleed.

Fine, she was unhappy! She felt sadness and anger and disappointment all at once. There was even a hint of hate – not for Gelinnas, but for the fact that Legolas had fallen in love with another elleth while Tauriel could not even imagine to open her heart to anyone else. She did not wish to, for what it was worth. All she wanted was for the pain to stop. She wanted to be happy for Legolas and Gelinnas, like a true friend would be, and not force her face to smile at them while her heart was screaming. It would probably take time, but she was determined to get there someday.

With another deep breath she got up and started to walk past the cells again as slowly and indifferently as she could. This time the Dwarves pretended to ignore her, a circumstance for which she was grateful. She concentrated so much on the authoritative impression she wanted to make on them that she did not pay attention to the wet stone beneath her right foot and slipped on it, making a few rather unbecoming movements to keep herself from falling.

When she had regained her balance and her indifferent facial expression – the latter being the more difficult one of the two – she intended to walk on as if nothing had happened, but a chuckle coming from one of the cells made her stop. She turned to the Dwarf with an icy glare – noticing that it was no other than the beardless one who had believed himself to be so funny with his insolent remark.

"What?" she hissed at him in the Common Tongue, making him laugh even harder.

"I thought Elves were supposed to be graceful," he gave back, trying to control his face. Tauriel snorted and chose not to grace him with any verbal reaction whatsoever. "You surely are as presumptuous as your people are said to be," he went on after a moment.

This time Tauriel could not refrain from snapping, "How dare you?"

The Dwarf shrugged and said casually, "What are you going to do to me, hmm? You've already imprisoned us and I daresay that if your king wanted us dead, he would have seen to it by now."

The impertinence of that Dwarf confused Tauriel, although she hated to admit it. "You're right," she conceded grudgingly, "I can't do anything to you, so you may throw at me whatever insult crosses your mind."

With that said, she wanted to turn around and walk on, but suddenly the Dwarf gave her another smile. "I don't intend to insult you. After all, you saved my life. Thank you, by the way."

"I only did my duty," Tauriel gave back dryly, although she would not have expected such friendly words from a prisoner.

The Dwarf nodded and grinned mischievously. "I see, I shouldn't flatter myself too much, right? That's understandable. But how you killed all those beasts, that was pretty impressive, I grant you." As hard as she tried, Tauriel could not stop her mouth from curling into a smile.

"How long did you have to train to get so good with a blade?" the Dwarf wanted to know.

"About six hundred years," Tauriel blurted, regretting her careless openness towards the prisoner the same moment. His face reflected his astonishment for a second, but then his grin returned. Tauriel could not deny that under all those layers of dirt and impertinence he had something endearing about him.

"May I ask for your name?" he probed curiously.

Tauriel arched an eyebrow and hesitated, but then she resolved that it could not hurt to define her position once more. "You may address me as Captain," she replied and was both surprised and pleased about how arrogant she could sound when she wanted to.

The Dwarf rolled his eyes and smirked from one unpointy ear to the other. "Too bad I already caught your name. It's Tauriel, isn't it? Mine is Kíli, in case you were going to ask."

"I wasn't." she assured him. Why was she even still here?

"So, Tauriel," the Dwarf changed the subject with an investigative glance at her bleeding hand, which she quickly hid behind her back, "what were you so upset about? I mean, when you punched that wall?"

All of a sudden she felt far more vulnerable than she would allow herself in the presence of a stranger. She assessed him warily and gave back, "That's none of your business, Dwarf." Without further ado she turned around and moved a few steps away.

"You're right, I apologise," it came from the cell immediately. She did not know what it was, but something in his tone of voice made her turn back and come closer again.

"It's not your fault," she admitted, "I was just angry with myself, I guess. For something stupid that I have… Never mind!" She shook her head as if to convince herself.

After a moment of studying her face and noticing that she was feeling very uncomfortable, the Dwarf chattered on as if to distract her, "You know, you remind me of an ancient story of my people. It's about a witch in a forest with hair like fire and eyes like ice – well, in your case it's only the hair, I guess – who can drive people mad just by staring at them. So I'd better not look at you for too long. Although, that's going to be pretty difficult…"

Tauriel ignored this new attempt to flirt; there was something far more astonishing that he had just said. "Your people have stories?" she heard herself ask, regretting the stupid question the instant it left her lips. The truth was that she had never thought about the idea of Dwarves having a cultural heritage even remotely alike to the one the Eldar possessed. "

Of course we do!" Kíli gave back, slightly offended. "What did you think? That we were some kind of crude, uncultured halfwits?"

"Well…" Tauriel replied, tilting her head undecidedly. He had mocked her culture before, so she was happy to show him that two could play that game.

The Dwarf took in a sharp breath – it seemed that she had actually managed to irritate him – but a second later his grin reappeared, though a little bit malicious this time. "Let me tell you something," he stated, pointing his dirty finger at her, "if you weren't an elven lady, and if I wasn't behind these bars, for that matter, I would challenge you to a shooting contest for this insult."

Tauriel snorted in amusement. "Every part of what you just said is ridiculous! For one thing, you would be dead, with one of my arrows between your ribs, before you could even draw your bow. For another – who has ever heard of a dwarven archer?"

"I am one!" he insisted, slightly resembling an offended child, which almost made Tauriel laugh. She remembered that there had been one bow among the weapons her soldiers had taken from the Dwarves. She had wondered but not paid much attention to it.

She was just making up her mind to find an appropriate answer to put that proud little fellow back in his place when the prison door was opened with a squeak and the long overdue watchman entered hurriedly. "I'm sorry, Captain," he gasped, "I was…" The soldier froze in the middle of his excuse at the sight of Tauriel and the Dwarf conversing.

His bewildered look woke her from some sort of trance and she stared at Kíli in confusion for a moment before she said to the guard, "I do not care. You're late, Neldor, and I will not tolerate any negligence of that kind. You will spend the rest of the week here in the dungeons." Prison watch was one of the most unpopular duties among the Palace Guard, so it worked very well as a disciplinary measure.

The guard frowned guiltily and nodded. "Yes, Captain."

Tauriel took the keys out of her pocket and handed them to Neldor. With a last baffled look at the Dwarf she turned on her heels and rushed out of the dungeons.


	23. Blue Sapphires

The sigh of annoyance that escaped Tauriel's mouth was so heartfelt that she could not have held it back even if she had wanted to. She had just completed the fifth try of restringing her bow with yet another glorious failure. "Whoever built this blasted bow, they deserve to be shot with it!" she cursed and slammed the weapon on the oak wood table in the captain's office.

"Then why do you insist on using it?" the mocking voice of Legolas came from across the room. He had been searching the bookshelf for a specific report of the Southern Border Guard from two years ago and Tauriel had not even asked him what he needed it for. Apparently he had found it, waving the piece of paper while pointing at her bow.

Tauriel made an effort at least as big as the Lonely Mountain to make her voice sound patient and polite. "Because as long as it works properly, it's the perfect bow for me." She held up the stringless frame and trailed its unusually curved shape with her finger. It was true, she had a bit of an unhealthy obsession with her bow and it had taken her almost four hundred years and seventeen different bowyers to find the shape that met all her requirements. The result, now lying in front of her, was quite extraordinary for an elven bow and had attracted many curious looks and snide comments over the years, but Tauriel's hit rate justified all of it.

However, there was one substantial disadvantage: Because of its extravagant form, restringing it took her at least half an hour every single time. She grimaced at the sight of the wooden frame and the loose string.

Legolas, who was already halfway to the door, changed his mind and walked up to her. "Let me try," he offered and took up the bow without waiting for an answer. Tauriel just waved her hand in consent, although she did not have much hope.

While fiddling around with the weapon, Legolas inquired, "How are our guests? Any new revelations?"

'Here it comes,' Tauriel thought and frowned. She knew him too well to believe that he was simply asking her about the Dwarves for professional reasons. No, his overly indifferent expression, his casual tone that could not disguise his curiosity, and of course the tiny twitches around his mouth that always indicated him trying to bring up a sensitive topic – Tauriel knew what she was in for and she intended to make it as awkward as possible for him.

She shook her head and explained, "No, they still refuse to give us any details about their quest. But on the bright side," at that point she looked straight into Legolas' face, "yesterday I heard a very interesting dwarven legend and I learned a few Khuzdul swear words." She savoured Legolas' disbelieving stare with a sardonic grin.

The prince put the bow down and gave back exhaustedly, "Have you been talking to your new acquaintance again? Tauriel, in all honesty, this is not a good idea!"

"Why not?" she asked innocently, enjoying every second of making her meddlesome friend uncomfortable. "You don't need to worry about me. I won't reveal any sensitive information and I certainly won't let them persuade me to set them free." She gave him another smirk dripping with sarcasm that did not fail to aggravate him.

"That was not what I was implying," he pointed out, struggling to maintain his calm. "I'm worried about your… safety."

Even though she could see that Legolas knew exactly what nonsense he had just thrown at her, she pretended to take it seriously. "My safety? Because I occasionally talk to a prisoner who is locked up and unarmed?"

"Please don't ridicule my concern for you!" Legolas requested sourly. "If only your conversations with him were 'occasional', there would be no reason to mention them at all. But the guards are already starting to wonder…"

"Then let them wonder!" Tauriel almost shouted. Slowly but steadily she was losing her composure. "The Dwarves are the king's prisoners, not mine. As long as I'm doing my duty and I'm not letting them escape, I have no obligation whatsoever to be hostile towards them. And frankly, I'm getting tired of your narrow-mindedness."

Legolas' jaw clenched and he rolled his eyes while his fingers were taking his frustration out on Tauriel's innocent bowstring. Gently but firmly she took the weapon from him.

"Very well," he gave back, "call me narrow-minded if that's what friendly concern looks like to you. But I still don't approve of the way that Dwarf stares at you, let alone his impertinent jokes. Haven't you noticed that he's trying to – I don't even want to say it out loud – flirt with you?" A shadow of disgust flashed over Legolas' face that made Tauriel angry for at least ten different reasons.

"You know what," she spat at him, "I am very honoured by your interest in my well-being, but I need you to listen carefully now. This is what you do when you see someone trying to flirt with me: If I look like it's bothering me, you sit back quietly and watch me break that fellow's nose. If I look like it isn't bothering me, you sit back quietly and do nothing at all, because it's not your task to protect me. So, please, let it go!" She wanted to glare at him, but instead she gave him an apologetic smile to soften her outburst.

"Fine, if you insist," Legolas gave in. "Although I have to say, that new… inclination of yours surprises me greatly. But I guess that part of your life is indeed none of my business anymore."

'Thanks a lot for reminding me,' Tauriel's inner voice contributed. For a moment she thought she saw an expression of bitterness flash over Legolas' face, but it was gone before she could pay any attention to it. She studied his reproachful frown and could not help finding it a tiny bit amusing, and despite all the unpleasant feelings bubbling and mixing inside her, she asked, "What in Manwë's name is wrong with you? Kíli and I talk about our cultures, journeys, weapons – that's it! If I didn't know better, I might think you were jealous."

"Jealous? Of a Dwarf?" Both Legolas' voice and face were so full of overly emphasised condescension that Tauriel almost believed she had hit a sore spot – but again, she resolved that for her own peace of mind she should not get any ideas of that kind. She grabbed the loose bowstring once again and made another attempt to pull it through the far too tiny and impractically shaped hole intended for it.

Legolas watched her struggle for a while, then he took the bow out of her hand again with a shake of his head. "Let's change the subject, shall we? I don't want to argue with you," he requested.

Tauriel shrugged – she did not feel inclined to justify her conversations with Kíli either. There was a short silence in which both of them waited for the other one to come up with something else to talk about, but after a while Tauriel remembered, "Didn't you want to discuss some important business with me? Or has it been settled by now?"

Legolas looked up at her with a slightly uncomfortable face. "No, it's still pending. But it's not quite easy to find the right words…"

Tauriel gave him a reassuring look. "Then use the wrong ones!" she tried.

Her hope was in vain because they were interrupted by the loud voice and the hasty footsteps of the king's butler, who had spotted the open door of the office and came rushing inside. "Captain!" he addressed Tauriel almost breathlessly. "How fortunate!"

She exchanged a clueless glance with Legolas and turned towards the butler. "Yes, Galion, how can I help you?"

He gave her a look of pure misery and started complaining, "You will not believe it: It has happened again!" When Tauriel did not inquire immediately what exactly had happened again, Galion simply went on, "The food thief is back. This time they took a loaf of bread and five apples from the servants' kitchen." As if that was explanation enough, he crossed his arms and stared at Tauriel, obviously waiting for a reaction.

She stopped herself from grinning and gave back politely, "I see. What do you want me to do about it?" It was not the first time he had brought up that issue, and yet Tauriel was convinced that the only culprit to blame was Galion's own absent-mindedness.

"I would like you to investigate the larceny!" he requested eagerly. "Don't you have a unit to deal with that kind of extraordinary occurrences?"

Tauriel bit the inside of her cheek to refrain from laughing. 'Extraordinary' most likely referred to an earlier idea of his as to who was stealing all the food. A few days ago he had been convinced that a ghost was behind it – a very short ghost with big feet and a red coat, who had the ability to vanish into thin air. Tauriel had listened to his story like she would have listened to a child, not failing to notice the smell of wine in his breath.

She declared firmly, "Dear Galion, I understand your distress, but the disappearance of a loaf of bread and some apples is hardly a matter to be investigated by the Special Operations Unit." She threw a glance at Legolas, looking for support, but the prince seemed rather distracted and was half-heartedly working on the bowstring quest.

The butler shook his head vigorously and begged to differ, "No, no! Obviously you don't understand! As I said, the bread and the apples are not the first food that has mysteriously disappeared within the last week. There was the bottle of Dorwinion that I was supposed to take to the king's quarters, then the pastries stolen from the bakery, the dried fruit, the mushrooms…"

"Yes, I see your point!" Tauriel interrupted him a little more harshly than intended. She needed to come up with a solution soon, or else Legolas would have to stop her by force from clawing Galion's eyeballs out.

"Listen, I will order the Palace Guard to pay special attention. Maybe it's simply a misunderstanding, with all the food that has to be prepared and stored for the feast…" She knew how beside himself Galion tended to be one day before a large celebration, such as the upcoming Mereth nuin Giliath, and she had the reasonable suspicion that he might just have overlooked something. She gave him a suggestive glance, which made him breathe deeply and shrug.

"Perhaps you're right," he allowed. With an almost conspiratorial look and a somewhat misplaced wink in direction of the still busy Legolas, he added quietly, "Everything is quite stressful at the moment. The young lady has her very own views of how to organise a festivity. When I offered her to take part in the preparations, I had no idea what I was getting myself into."

Tauriel forced herself to nod and gave him an artificial smile. The last thing she needed was Galion complaining to her about Gelinnas while Legolas was sitting at arm's length from them. "I'm sure things will turn out fine," was her weak try to soothe the butler's distress.

Surprisingly enough, it seemed to do the trick. Galion thanked her for her willingness to cooperate and took his leave, scurrying off to the wine cellar.

When he was out of earshot, Tauriel tugged on Legolas' sleeve to regain his attention. He stared at her for a moment, obviously still caught in his own thoughts. Tauriel stated with a nod in Galion's direction, "Sorry for that. So, you were saying?"

Legolas managed to shake off the last bit of confusion and continued hesitantly, "To be honest, I still have no idea how to phrase this."

Tauriel tried to encourage him, "Don't worry, you know I can take a lot. Just say it, you will feel better afterwards."

"I'm not so sure about that," Legolas mumbled, but then he braced himself and started, "It's the following: My father has repeatedly… recommended me to start thinking about my future. You know, in terms of…"

"Excuse me?" Another familiar voice and a knock at the now closed door made both Legolas and Tauriel give a start.

The prince closed his eyes and Tauriel was almost sure to detect a hint of frustration on his face. It vanished as quickly as it had appeared and after a questioning look at her – after all it was her office – he called, "Enter!"

The door was opened slowly and Lady Gelinnas squeezed through the gap. Her eyes wandered back and forth between Tauriel and Legolas and she had to blink once or twice to remember what she wanted to say. "I'm sorry to interrupt," she uttered hesitantly. "I thought I saw Galion come in here a few minutes ago."

"He was here," Tauriel affirmed, "but he has already left. I think he went to the cellar."

The lady acknowledged the information with a glance in the indicated direction, but then she changed her mind, stepped inside, waved the pile of paper in her hand and explained, "I'm telling you, this feast is a nightmare!" She leaned against the door and let out a deep sigh of desperation that made both Tauriel and Legolas grin.

"Laugh all you want, you two!" Gelinnas reproached them- "Galion is such a stubborn old donkey! Forgive me my unseemly wording, but it's true! When he offered me to help him with the preparation, I had no idea what I was getting myself into."

"That sounds familiar," Tauriel mumbled, taking the bow back. Fortunately Gelinnas did not hear her remark.

"I may not know a lot about slaying spiders or Orcs or dragons," she rambled on, "but I do know how to organise a large festivity. I most certainly respect and admire Galion's experience, but he seems to be slightly off track lately. He keeps talking about ghosts who steal food; it's rather disturbing. Besides, his preparations have no concept at all!"

Legolas walked over to her and put his arm around her shoulder to comfort her. "After a few millennia of organising feasts there may not be much perfectionism left. As you have already seen plenty of times, we usually just eat, drink – a lot – sing old songs and dance. Right, Tauriel?"

The captain looked up from the bow in confusion. She had hoped to be spared her share in their conversation, but as she was required to say something now, she affirmed half-heartedly, "Mmh, right," before she focussed on the weapon again.

"Perhaps your goals are more ambitious than old Galion's?" Legolas went on.

Gelinnas conceded, "Possibly. I do admit that this feast is going to be a little different from the ones you're used to and I sincerely hope at least some people will like it." She seemed genuinely concerned and against her will Tauriel was already thinking of a few reassuring words, but Legolas was faster.

"I'm sure everyone will love it. And even if nothing works out at all, I'll still tell you how beautiful it was." Tauriel wanted to bury her teeth in her own fist.

However, she had to control this urge very quickly when Gelinnas addressed her, "I especially hope you will enjoy it. You seem really stressed lately and an evening without duty will certainly do you good."

She smiled at Tauriel, who cringed internally and struggled to maintain her jovial expression. 'Remember, it's not her fault and she means well!' she reminded herself silently before she replied, "I'm not sure I can make it. We're very short on watchmen and I think I will have to work tomorrow night."

Gelinnas' face reflected her disappointment. "Well, at least that's not a definite no. I still hope to see you there." With another glance at the lists in her hand she resolved, "I should find Galion now. See you this evening," she added to Legolas, gave Tauriel a graceful nod and left.

When they were alone again, Legolas raised an eyebrow and assessed Tauriel doubtfully. "You are short on watchmen?"

He did not have to say anything more to make her feel guilty about the white lie she had told Gelinnas. The plain and simple truth was that she was in no mood for celebrating and most certainly not inclined to spend the evening in the company of those two lovebirds.

For lack of a better answer she just nodded and focussed on her bow once more, and without even knowing how she did it, she finally managed to attach the string correctly. "Oh, look!" she exclaimed. "Who would have thought it? You know, I have to go too, the Border Guard units should come back any minute." With that she rose from her chair and left the office, perfectly aware that Legolas had still not had a chance to bring up his important subject, but feeling unable to deal with it adequately in her current state of mind.

* * *

><p>The music in the courtyard had already started a while ago and Legolas resolved that it was time for him to leave his chambers and make his appearance at the feast. He threw a look into the mirror while tying the hair braid he had just finished and readjusting his collar. He noticed that his hands were trembling slightly – no wonder, there was a reason he had postponed his arrival at the feast until now. He slid his hand into his pocket probably for the thousandth time this evening, then he took a deep breath, tried to manage a convincing smile, which his reflection in the mirror returned somewhat weakly, and braced himself to leave.<p>

Just when he was about to close his door, he heard hasty footsteps approaching and a moment later Gelinnas came rushing around the next corner of the corridor, heading in the same direction he intended. On seeing him she slowed down and made a visible effort to look composed, but started grinning as soon as she noticed that it was all in vain. After throwing a nervous glance over her shoulder, she shoved him unceremoniously back into his chamber.

"What the..? I was just going to…" Legolas started and gestured in the general direction of the courtyard.

"Sshh!" Gelinnas silenced him, closing the door behind them as quietly as she could.

Legolas heard someone walking by and waited until the steps sounded distant enough before he whispered, "What was that about?"

Gelinnas rolled her eyes. "Galion! If I have one more discussion with him tonight, there will be blood, and as I'm not sure whether it will be his or mine, I thought it best to seek refuge in here."

"You're welcome," Legolas replied, "but let me tell you from my own experience that it's always unwise to cross Galion. One day you will want his advice or a specific piece of information or a slice of lemon cake – and then he will take his revenge on you."

Gelinnas burst out laughing. "Thank you for warning me, but I'm sure we will be on good terms again as soon as the feast is over."

"Let's hope for the best," Legolas stated. "By the way: Before we go upstairs and throw ourselves into the claws of society…" He stopped, put his arms around her and covered her mouth with a kiss. Maybe it was just his imagination, but her lips always tasted a little salty and even after spending more than a year in the Greenwood she still smelled like a fresh sea breeze.

Gelinnas smiled at him and ran her fingers through his hair. "Legolas?" she whispered after a moment, "I'd like to ask you something that has been on my mind for a while."

"What is it?" he wanted to know, trying to decipher the sudden frown on her face.

She seemed to look for the right words. "It's about Tauriel," she finally managed to say, biting her lip as if the topic made her uncomfortable. "I… worry about her. She seems very distressed and whenever I speak to her, I get the impression that she would rather be anywhere else but in my company."

Legolas tilted his head in astonishment and asked, "What makes you think that? Has she said anything to you?"

"No, nothing, she's perfectly polite and friendly to me," Gelinnas explained. "Still, somehow I have the feeling that I may have offended her, but I can't figure out for the life of me what I have done to her. Do you happen to know anything?"

As much as Legolas struggled to appear unaffected by Gelinnas' remark, he was still sure to look like the embodiment of discomfort when he muttered, "I have no idea. She's probably just stressed, you know, lots of pressure on her, with the prisoners…" He stopped on realising that Gelinnas was gazing at him sceptically. She had a very keen eye for people's moods and he figured that he could just as well stop pretending.

"What's your story with Tauriel?" she suddenly wanted to know and the question made Legolas' heart sink to his boots.

"She has been my best friend since childhood, you know that," he tried, but Gelinnas' arched eyebrow and her somewhat pitiful smile told him that it had not been good enough. 'Eru help me, in this particular talent she does resemble her mother,' he could not stop himself from thinking. His hand subconsciously wandered into his pocket once again and its content convinced him that she deserved to know the whole truth.

"Fine," he admitted, "there was a time when Tauriel and I were… romantically involved." He scanned Gelinnas' face for a reaction and was beyond surprised to find nothing but a calm smile.

"I'm glad I heard this from you," she gave back. "I could have asked anyone to confirm what I was already assuming, Galion first of all, but I did not wish to go behind your back because I want you to trust me. Thank you for being honest with me."

Legolas did not know what to say. She never failed to surprise him in the best possible way. Finally he managed to tell her, "It was a long time ago. We agreed that we worked much better as friends."

Gelinnas nodded and asked while taking his hand, "What was it that changed your minds?"

"Our priorities and wishes for the future were miles apart," Legolas explained, begging every Vala to stop the sudden inexplicable feeling of regret that overcame him while speaking these words. To reassure himself just as much as Gelinnas, he stated, "You don't need to worry, both Tauriel and I are over it and perfectly content to be friends." 'Yes, of course we are!' he tried to convince himself silently.

Gelinnas let out a deep breath. "No wonder she avoids me… You two may be over it and content, but still, in a way, I'm taking her place and it all happens right under her nose." Her face reflected her concern and Legolas tried desperately not to think further about any possible implication her words might contain.

Instead he suddenly heard himself blurt, "It's not as if Tauriel had not moved on. In fact, she doesn't even seem to mind one of the Dwarf prisoners flirting with her in the crudest possible manner."

"What?" Gelinnas exclaimed with wide eyes, before she forced her composure to return and apologised, looking fairly uncomfortable, "Excuse me… Well, I'm sure Tauriel knows what she's doing. So, what do you say, shall we go upstairs?"

Legolas cursed himself for a hundred different reasons, but at least he was relieved to have one inconvenient subject off the table. He offered Gelinnas his arm and they started their way through the corridor.

When they had just left the royal quarters, an unfamiliar noise right next to them made them stop and look around. There was nothing to be seen, but of course it was dark due to the limited number of lanterns in these parts of the palace. Gelinnas threw a questioning look at Legolas, but when he told her that it had most likely been a stray bat or simply a draught, she shrugged and waved her hand – only to let out a shriek a moment later that made Legolas' blood freeze.

"What's wrong?" he asked and grabbed her arm.

She turned around and gestured hectically, "I-I touched something, it was right here! It felt like fabric, it was…"

"Gelinnas, calm down!" Legolas interrupted her firmly. He took one of the lanterns off the wall and went a few steps in the direction she had indicated. "See? There's nothing," he pointed out, "you're not starting to believe in Galion's ghost stories, are you?"

Gelinnas was still trembling all over, but she mustered all the bravery she possessed and answered, "Of course not. Let's go!" She linked arms with him again, holding on a little tighter this time, and they continued their journey.

* * *

><p>No one, not even Galion, could deny that this year's Mereth nuin Giliath was special in the best sense of the word. The courtyard was beautifully decorated – on every table there were tiny candles that mirrored the light of the stars above, the midnight blue tablecloths imitating the dark sky. The musicians were not allowed to consume wine for a change, which reflected greatly in the quality of their renditions as the evening progressed, and for the first time in centuries there was an actual schedule and a stage for other artistic performances, such as poetry and songs. The people were still able to enjoy the feast in their usual way, but Legolas had to admit that the existence of a programme made for a welcome alternation.<p>

His father sat next to him at the high table and let his eyes wander over the crowd. He fixed his gaze on Lady Gelinnas, who had just accepted the polite request of one of the royal counsellors to dance with him. Legolas followed his father's eyes and already anticipated what was going to happen next.

Indeed Thranduil soon addressed him discreetly, "I have to say Gelinnas has truly outdone herself with all this." He gestured around, not bothering to put down his glass of wine while doing so. "She seems to possess quite the organisational talent and the strong will necessary to have her ideas executed."

Legolas could only just stop himself from rolling his eyes. Of course it was true that Gelinnas had done excellently, but after all the months that she had been at the palace, his father's attempts to point out her virtues had lost both their originality and their subtlety.

"Indeed she does," Legolas gave back politely and took a sip of wine. He was very aware of the little something that still rested in his pocket, waiting for him to summon the courage to put it to use.

Apparently his father guessed his thought, because he leaned over to him and inquired with an unusually warm expression, "Have you made up your mind as to the subject we discussed?"

Legolas gulped and felt the tremble in his hands return. In his head he repeated all the favourable points he had ever thought of, reminding himself that the matter was decided and that he would not change his mind anymore.

"Yes, Adar," he replied, "but please let me do it in my own good time."

Thranduil gave him a rare smile. "By all means. I would not have you feel pressured." All Legolas could do to stop himself from glaring at his father in disbelief was to dive into his glass once more.

He caught a glimpse of Gelinnas moving gracefully in the crowd. He remembered her warmth, her innocent wisdom, her laughter – and suddenly he felt the irresistible urge to get up, leave the feast and take the last possible opportunity to have a conversation he had been postponing for too long. He excused himself and without giving his father or anyone else an explanation, he rushed out of the courtyard.

On his way he asked a few soldiers if they happened to know where the captain was. One of them informed him that he had seen her descending to the dungeons. Legolas was not too pleased but not very much surprised either.

The prison was dark and quiet at this time of the night. The only thing Legolas could hear was the distant music, accompanied by the steady sound of the river beneath the caves. The guard who opened the door for him – Neldor was his name – looked fairly confused and not overly eager to be on duty during the feast. Legolas could not blame him, although he knew him to be of the less reliable sort and suspected that his prison watch was most likely a punishment for an earlier misdemeanour.

He advanced into the cave and passed a few cells, noticing the hostile glares of one or two Dwarves, whereas most of them were sound asleep and snoring. Legolas walked on in search of Tauriel until he reached a little platform that allowed him an overview of the dungeons. He threw a glance downwards – and found what he was looking for.

There she was, sitting on the stairs in front of a cell, holding some sort of polished black stone in her hand and listening attentively to the Dwarf. A moment later she started talking in turn. Legolas could not hear her because of the rushing river, but he could see how absorbed she was in the conversation and how comfortable she looked in the Dwarf's presence. He felt his stomach cramp when he saw her eyes light up and her mouth curve into a genuine smile full of warmth. He knew it all too well, yet the last time he had seen it many years ago it had been meant for him.

Was this not the entire answer he had been looking for? The question he had wanted to ask Tauriel, the question whether there was still the smallest chance of her ever reconsidering their relationship, had obviously been rendered mute. Truth be told, what else had he expected? Legolas took a deep breath, then another one and finally he decided to turn around and leave.

When he came back to the courtyard, the feast was still in progress, although he felt rather out of place in the middle of it. To his own astonishment he did not feel sad or disappointed but strangely at peace with the world and himself for the first time in weeks.

He slid his hand into his pocket and his fingers found his mother's engagement ring. He took it out and contemplated it for a while. Three sapphires set in mithril, designed for the hand of a future queen. His eyes travelled to the king's table, where Gelinnas was talking to his father. Legolas put the ring back into his pocket and approached them.

With a polite nod to the king he asked, "Adar, may I abduct Lady Gelinnas for a moment? I have something to discuss with her."


	24. Green Kingsfoil

The sky was still painted grey by the pale light of dawn. The captain crossed the courtyard where the inhabitants of the Woodland Halls had been celebrating Mereth nuin Giliath until a few hours ago. People were already busy cleaning and the place started to look reassuringly normal again. Tauriel had been up early, intending to retreat to her office and plan the Guard's schedules for the upcoming week before the morning shift change. However, her honourable goal had receded into the distance because she had been careless enough to listen to all the whispers that were exchanged on the quiet or even out in the open among palace staff, craftsmen, guards and nobility.

The prince was betrothed. At first Tauriel did not feel anything, but after a while, as soon as the news fully reached her consciousness, she did not know whether to be shocked, sad, angry, bitterly amused or all at once. It was not that big a surprise, after all the signs had been there for long enough. Still, Legolas could at least have told her! Her own futile feelings aside, she was beyond disappointed on seeing how little their friendship apparently meant to him. She begged the Valar not to run into him any time soon.

She entered her office quietly and closed the door behind herself. The paper and quill for the planning of the schedules were waiting for her on the table, but Tauriel simply sat down and stared into the air with empty eyes and a no less empty mind.

She had no idea how much time she had passed in that state – it could have been a minute or an hour – when a sudden knock at the door violently ripped her out of her trance. She allowed the visitor to enter and looked into the confused faces of Lieutenant Alation and a young soldier of the Palace Guard whom she vaguely remembered to be named Rohel.

The girl saluted to the captain and Alation addressed her, "Good morning, Tauriel! We are sorry to interrupt, but we have to get the spare keys to the dungeons." He walked to the large chest of drawers next to the bookshelf, where all sorts of keys and other important utensils were safely stored, and took what he needed.

Tauriel watched him without realising what was going on, until the worried expression of the soldier waiting at the door made her inquire, "Why do you need them? Who has the current watch in the dungeons?"

"I do, Captain," Rohel informed her. "But when I went down there to start my shift, Neldor would not open the door or answer my calls. So I asked Lieutenant Alation to get the keys and check on him."

"Very well," Tauriel managed to answer, "I'll go with you, just in case." Hearing about Neldor's inadequacy was nothing new to her and did not alarm her anymore, but she needed to clear her mind with a practical task.

The three of them descended the corridor to the dungeons and tried knocking and calling once more, but there was still no answer. Tauriel unlocked the heavy iron door, entered the prison, passed the first Dwarf cell – and froze. It was empty, as were all the others in sight. Tauriel sent Rohel to ring the alarm bell and rushed through the rest of the prison corridors, followed by Alation. All Dwarves were gone, yet the cell doors were neatly locked and undamaged.

Her brain worked feverishly trying to understand what could have happened, and more importantly, which way the prisoners could have escaped. There was no exit down in the caves and the front door had been securely locked. And where was that Eru-forsaken prison guard? Tauriel's heart started to race.

"Neldor!" she shouted, but there was no reaction.

In the meantime Etheldir and two other Special Operations soldiers had been summoned by the alarm and looked around as cluelessly as the captain. She sent them to search the adjoining caves while she and Alation hurried to check the only remaining exit that could be reached coming from the dungeons, the trapdoors that led out of the wine cellar and into the river.

If the Dwarves had indeed used that passage, at least they could not have come far. Once they would fall into the water, the only way out of the caves would be blocked by a heavy portcullis that was guarded day and night. Although that insight reassured Tauriel, her heart was still pounding violently as she entered the wine cellar.

"Neldor?" she called once more and advanced into the labyrinth of barrels and shelves.

A moment later Tauriel saw what had happened to the prison guard: He was sound asleep, lying over a table in the centre of the small room. At the opposite end she recognised old Galion in a similar state and snoring loudly. An empty carafe and two glasses on the table told her everything there was to know. With a mixture of relief and fury she slammed her palm on the table and the two drunkards awoke with a start.

"C-Captain, I…" Neldor stuttered, but Tauriel did not dignify his excuse with one look.

She hurried to the trapdoors – which were closed – but as she turned back towards Alation, the sudden realisation of what had happened made her heart skip a beat. The empty barrels that had been accumulating there over the last few weeks were gone. She had no idea how they had done it, but the way through the trapdoors was the only possibility for the prisoners to escape.

"Damn bloody Dwarves!" Tauriel cursed behind gritted teeth and raced out of the wine cellar to summon her soldiers.

* * *

><p>When the small company of soldiers returned to the palace, Tauriel felt as if the whole world had changed, although the fight against the Orc pack and the chase along the river had not lasted more than half an hour. Orcs had never come this close to the palace before, nor had any prisoner ever escaped the dungeons of the Woodland Realm. Tauriel was convinced that both incidents were connected in some way or another. She did not know why the Dwarves seemed to be so important to the Orcs, or who had sent the bloodthirsty creatures to kill the fugitives, but she sensed that all of it indicated a more serious problem than the Woodelves had faced in centuries. Hopefully the king would hurry to take action.<p>

She ordered the two soldiers who were holding the only captured Orc to halt. The beast was cursing in its horrid language, but the guards paid no attention to it. Their faces reflected the utter bewilderment they were feeling about the things that had just happened. None of them could wrap their minds around the fact that eighteen had set out to pursue the prisoners, but only fourteen had returned, not even counting the two fallen watchmen at the watergate. Tauriel remembered every single incident during her career that had cost the life of a soldier. Six at once was a record she had never wished to beat.

A glance at the prince, who was standing beside her, brought another thought back to her mind that she would have preferred to bury for eternity. By the split of a second, by a hairbreadth he could have died on the rocks above the river. Tauriel's arrow had stopped the one of the Orc in the middle of its trajectory. Her rage boiled up again and she wanted nothing more than cut the filthy beast's throat for trying to take Legolas' life, but this was not the time for personal revenge, as she reminded herself.

Some palace guards were carrying their fallen comrades into the courtyard and Tauriel was relieved to see Lieutenant Alation taking charge of the matter. Several people came out of the various palace entrances to see what was going on and most of them froze in shock at the sight of the dead guards.

As much as Tauriel wanted to stay and make herself useful, if only by paying her respects to those who had lost their lives protecting their realm, her presence was required in the throne room. Fortunately she was too beside herself to worry about how she would explain the escape of the prisoners and the intrusion of the Orcs to the king. She exchanged a look of mutual understanding with Legolas and signalled the soldiers to drag the now silent Orc into the palace.

When they entered the royal quarters, the first thing Tauriel saw was a completely distraught Lady Gelinnas, followed by a more composed but still unsettled Galion. On seeing Legolas and Tauriel, Gelinnas exclaimed "Thank Eru!" and flung her arms around the prince's neck before even realising what the soldiers were leading along. When she became aware of the Orc she gave a start, whereas Galion only displayed a grimace of mild disgust. Tauriel tried her best to focus on him instead of Legolas and Gelinnas, an endeavour in which she only succeeded because she was still angry with the butler for getting the prison guard drunk.

"I think it's best if you retreat to your chambers for a while," she heard Legolas whisper to his betrothed. "Believe me, you'll sleep better if you don't see any of this. And you, Galion, your assistance may be required in the courtyard." The butler bowed and hurried to fulfil the request, while Gelinnas threw a last fearful look at the Orc before she left as well, although a little reluctantly.

They entered the throne room, where the king was expecting them. He assessed the Orc, then his son and the captain, and at last he commanded the two guards to leave. Both Tauriel and Legolas drew their blades, just in case.

"Captain, how do you explain this?" the king asked Tauriel with a jerk of his head in direction of the Orc, but referring to the whole unpleasant affair.

She cringed internally and forced her voice to sound as normal as possible. "A series of unfortunate coincidences," she answered, knowing exactly how shamefully weak her excuse was. "The Orcs must have lurked in the forest for a while and used the change of guards as an opportunity to attack. As for the Dwarves, the prison guard was... distracted and..."

"Correct me if I am mistaken" the king interrupted her coldly, "but I assumed the Woodland Realm possessed an army for the exact purpose of preventing incidents like this one."

"Adar, please!" Legolas interjected, but the king silenced him with a wave of his hand.

To Tauriel he added, "I expect complete clarification of all the circumstances that led to the escape as well as the attack. Furthermore you will evacuate all settlements until we can be sure that the forest is clean again."

"Yes, my lord," Tauriel mumbled, unable to look at the king or the prince and feeling a lump in her throat. Her mind could not even decide which problem to worry about first. Thirty Orcs running loose in the forest, the Dwarves facing a most unpleasant fate, be it on the road or in the mountain, the mere fact that they had been able to get out of their cells in the first place, the mysterious reason behind the massacre – the list was seemingly endless and Tauriel's guilt for letting it happen did not improve the situation.

On top of all that she just remembered that poor Kíli had been particularly unlucky. He had taken an arrow to the leg, most likely a poisoned one, judging by the rest of the missiles. If Tauriel had not been in the right place at the right time once again, his attacker would have killed him at the watergate. How had that blasted Dwarf even survived before he had met her? Tauriel did not know how resilient or skilled at healing Dwarves were, but she knew the horrible effects of morgul weapons all too well and asked the Valar for mercy on Kíli. If only she could do anything helpful instead of standing around in the throne room waiting for the king to make up his mind.

Thranduil gave the captain another cold glance before he turned to his son, who was holding his blade to the Orc's neck. The king's face reflected a much greater concern than Tauriel would have expected in case of a simple intrusion by marauding Orcs. Just like her, he seemed to suspect a deeper and much more alarming cause behind the attack.

He assessed the creature thoroughly from head to toe and asked, "Who sent you and what is your interest in our prisoners?"

The Orc stared back at him in silence. Tauriel was not sure how to read the features of its grotesque face, but she was almost certain to detect a grin full of condescension. She tightened her grip around the hilts of her knives and resisted the urge to enhance the beast's cooperation by demonstrating the quality of Greenwood-forged steel. Her patience was tested even more when the Orc snorted and spat out in front of the king's feet. Thranduil did not move an inch, but Legolas gave the creature a kick to the back of its knees that made its legs give way. It groaned angrily and resumed its defiant stare.

The king turned away from the spectacle and gazed into the shallow light of the ample cave, as if he saw something in his mind that had happened in bygone ages. "Such is the nature of evil," he stated slowly, "out there in the vast ignorance of the world it festers and spreads. A shadow that grows in the dark, a sleepless malice as black as the oncoming wall of night. So it ever was. So will it always be. In time all foul things come forth."

He crossed his arms and nodded at Legolas, who pulled back the Orc's head, held his blade closer to its throat and tried again, "You were tracking a company of thirteen Dwarves – why?"

Suddenly a glimmer of wicked amusement appeared in the creature's eyes when it hissed, "Not thirteen, not anymore. The young one, the black-haired archer, we stuck him with a morgul shaft. The poison is in his blood. He'll be choking on it soon."

Tauriel saw the satisfaction on the beast's face and again the desire to inflict as much pain on it as possible overcame her. "Answer the question, filth!" she demanded, causing the Orc to glare at her and snarl a few angry words in its atrocious language.

Out of a reflex she raised her blades and took a step towards the beast. What stopped her in the last moment was Legolas' warning glare. He tightened his grip around the captive and advised it, "I would not antagonise her." Tauriel detected a hint of pride in his voice – under normal circumstances it would have lightened up her mood, but now all she saw was the Orc and the malicious grin spreading over its ugly face.

Enough was enough! This scum was mocking them in their own halls, gloating over the suffering it had caused, taking delight in the lost lives of the soldiers and the inevitable fate of the Dwarves. Tauriel tried to maintain her composure, telling herself that it was just one more lowlife among the hundreds she had seen and killed, and that she should not let its disdainful words get to her, but she failed. The happenings of the morning were still too fresh in her mind, the shock and grief about her fallen soldiers, the worry about the Dwarves, the fear of what might happen – all of it suddenly overwhelmed her.

"You like killing things, Orc," she said in a voice so indifferent it almost scared herself. "You like death? Then let me give it to you!" With that she approached the beast and raised her blade, ready to cut through its stinking flesh, but the king's sharp voice made her freeze in the middle of her movement.

"Enough!" he commanded. "Tauriel, leave!"

She needed a second to regain control of her emotions and again it was Legolas' silent request to obey the king that calmed her. She sheathed her dagger and fixed her eyes straight ahead when she left the throne room, not on the Orc and not on the king, although she still heard him say that he did not care about one dead Dwarf.

'Calm down,' she reminded herself, 'You are the Captain of the Guard, you need to control the situation. Focus on your task to evacuate the forest, the king will soon decide what to do.'

* * *

><p>As it turned out, Thranduil had decided to do nothing. When Tauriel returned to the palace after making sure the Forest Guard executed the evacuation plan correctly, Lieutenant Alation informed her about the king's order to seal the gates, reinforce the watch at all borders, roads and rivers and take no further action whatsoever. She could not believe what she had just heard and stared at Etheldir, who had accompanied her to the forest, as if to convince herself that she was not dreaming.<p>

"What in the names of all the Valar is that supposed to mean? We cannot hide in here while those beasts are out and about hunting our prisoners and an angry dragon might soon turn every living being in a fifty mile radius to ash!" she hissed at poor Alation, who had done nothing but deliver the unpleasant message and was apparently unwilling to take the captain's indignation all upon himself.

"I have my orders," he replied. "Now, if you will excuse me…" He did not wait for an answer and simply left Tauriel and Etheldir at the main gate.

She took some deep breaths, trying to wrap her mind around the king's decision and failing miserably. How could he ignore the fate of everyone outside his confounded caves? How could he allow the spawn of Dol Guldur to raid his realm, to kill his soldiers, to assault his prisoners, as if he were blind and deaf? Tauriel had never been as disappointed in him as she was in this moment, and suddenly, knowing that she would bitterly regret this unforgivable madness soon enough, she made her choice.

Etheldir tried to hold her back by reminding her of her duty as captain, but the only answer she could think of was to rip the silver badge off her shoulder and throw it to him. He caught it, staring at it and then back at her. Tauriel forced her eyes away from her old friend and stepped through the gate.

* * *

><p>Legolas was still struggling to get the disgusting smell of Orc blood out of his nose. His father had beheaded the beast despite the fact that it could certainly have provided more useful information, but apparently the king had found out all he needed to know.<p>

Thanking the Valar that Thranduil's blade had missed his left hand by half an inch and resolving to be a much more considerate father one day, Legolas made his way to the main gate to inquire after the progress of the evacuation. Fortunately there were hardly any settlements left outside the palace. After the incident with the dragon a hundred and seventy years ago most people had preferred not to return to their remote villages, and the few who still lived at a short distance from the caves would be summoned in no time.

Legolas dreaded Tauriel's reaction to the king's orders. She would most certainly disagree and he could not blame her for it. Truth be told, he was not too content with Thranduil's policy of isolation himself, but he admitted that it had managed to protect the Woodland people from the growing darkness during hundreds of years. Although Legolas felt guilty leaving the rest of the world to its fate, he trusted his father's judgement and agreed that the safety of their own people was the first and foremost issue to mind. If only he could bring Tauriel to share that point of view.

He squeezed his way through a crowd of villagers who were just entering the courtyard with their belongings. Etheldir stood at the main gate, exchanging a few words with the Forest Guard corporal whose unit had led the people to the palace.

Legolas approached them, being greeted by both of them with a bow, and asked the corporal, "How many more are to come?"

The soldier replied, "These are the last ones, Your Highness. The forest is clear."

"Then close the gate," Legolas commanded the two watchmen at the entrance. "Keep it sealed by order of the king." He had already turned away to continue his search for the captain when Etheldir's hesitant voice stopped him.

"What about Tauriel?"

Relying on six hundred years of experience, Legolas already knew what to expect when he asked, "What about her?"

"She went into the forest armed with her bow and blade," Etheldir explained. "She has not returned."

For a second all Legolas could do was close his eyes and force himself to breathe. He did not intend to speak aloud, but nevertheless he heard himself mutter, "By Ilúvatar the Great, that elleth will be the death of me yet!"

* * *

><p>When he saw Tauriel on the rocks above the river, where they had lost the Orc pack a few hours earlier, Legolas felt equal amounts of relief and anger. Sometimes he asked himself if she even pondered the consequences of her actions in the slightest. His father had been outraged on hearing that the captain had ventured into the forest by herself, openly undermining his orders. Granted, she had seen to her task of evacuating the settlements, but not even Legolas would have thought her capable of ripping off her badge and simply leaving without so much of a word. To be honest, he felt betrayed by her. For as long as he had known her, he would have been the first and probably the only person to know about such an endeavour of hers. This time she had not even said goodbye.<p>

Luckily the relief of seeing her unharmed soothed his disappointment. Nevertheless he drew his bow – he was not above taking the opportunity to scare his headstrong friend. The bowstring made a nearly inaudible noise, but it was enough to make Tauriel reach for her weapon as well. She turned around, arrow pointed at Legolas, and as soon as he saw the determined expression on her face, he knew that this would not be an easy conversation.

"I thought you were an Orc," Tauriel stated, lowering her bow.

"If I were an Orc, you would be dead," Legolas pointed out accurately.

Tauriel shrugged. "What are you doing here?"

"Paying off my debt," he gave back, and when she threw him a questioning look, he explained, "You saved my life on this very spot this morning. Now I'm saving your career."

"You are?" Tauriel showed him a sceptical frown.

"Come back with me," he requested, "you're in no state to make sensible decisions." Her expression became dismissive and she turned away from him. Legolas took a few steps towards her and tried to reason with her, "Tauriel, you cannot hunt thirty Orcs on your own."

"But I'm not on my own," was the only answer she deemed necessary.

Legolas could not help but smile. "You knew I would come." Of course she knew. And of course he was there with her. Anything else was unthinkable.

Still he did not abandon his plan to set her mind straight. "The king is angry, Tauriel. For six hundred years my father has protected you, favoured you. You defied his orders, you betrayed his trust." He saw her jaw clench and recognised the all too familiar expression of guilt mixed with defiance. "Come back with me, he will forgive you," he tried his luck once more, already knowing it would be in vain.

"But I will not," Tauriel answered as expected. "If I go back, I will not forgive myself. The king has never let Orc filth roam our lands, yet he would let this Orc pack cross our borders and kill our prisoners."

The prisoners – Legolas should have known it. For lack of more convincing arguments he claimed, "It is not our fight." When he heard the words leave his mouth, he suddenly doubted if they were indeed his own or his father's.

Tauriel did not give him enough time to ponder that question. She immediately contradicted, "It is our fight! It will not end here. With every victory this evil will grow. If your father has his way, we will do nothing. We will hide within our walls, live our lives away from the light and let darkness descend." Legolas could not deny the truth in that. He did not answer and after a short silence Tauriel looked at him and asked, "Are we are not part of this world? Tell me, mellon, when did we let evil become stronger than us?"

Legolas' inner battle was short and brutal. In the end he did not even know how he had come to his decision. "You do know this could mean the end of your career, don't you?" he made one last desperate attempt to change her mind.

She only nodded and said calmly, "I do."

Legolas let out a sigh. "Well then, we're as good as dead."

"We?" Tauriel frowned, searching his eyes.

He smiled bitterly and shook his head in ironic resignation. "Did you think for a moment that I would let you commit this suicidal folly on your own?"

Tauriel gave him a short smile, but a moment later another thought seemed to cross her mind. "Your betrothed will be worried sick, won't she? You know I always try to be optimistic, but I don't want to be responsible for her being widowed before even being married."

Legolas felt his cheeks flush for no apparent reason. "So you heard about it," he replied, knowing very well how stupid he sounded.

"The whole palace was talking about nothing else this morning," she gave back, making a visible effort to look indifferent. "Congratulations, by the way."

"Thank you," Legolas mumbled, taking a sudden interest in the carving on his bow.

"You know, you could have told me!" Tauriel finally blurted.

"I tried!" he answered, forcing himself not to sound too aggressive. "I brought it up at least five times, but you always found a way to avoid the conversation!"

Tauriel's eyes widened, "Oh, so that was your mysterious issue!"

"Yes, it was," he affirmed, silencing his bad consciousness by telling himself that this was at least half the truth.

Tauriel nodded slowly. "All right then, I take everything back," she said and showed him a forced smile. After a painfully long pause she added, "I'm happy for the two of you."

Legolas wanted to smash his head against one of the rocks at the sight of her miserable expression. He felt the sudden urge to walk over to her, take her in his arms and never let go again, but his better judgement blamed it on the altogether unsettling circumstances of the day. He swallowed the lump in his throat and simply suggested, "Let's go, the Orcs must be halfway to the border by now."

* * *

><p>The two Eldar had travelled as fast as possible without stopping to rest. The guards at the eastern border had not noticed them leaving the realm – Legolas was undecided whether he should be glad or disappointed about that, but there was no time to think about it now.<p>

Finally they had got track of the Orc pack and Esgaroth now lay ahead of them. Night had fallen about an hour ago and the weak moonlight reflected on the quiet surface of the lake. From the corner of his eyes Legolas saw Tauriel shiver. She stood next to him in the shadow of an old oak, looking up at him and whispering, "Thank you for coming with me." He only nodded, then he drew his weapon.

The water streets and wooden buildings of Esgaroth had not changed much since the last time Legolas had seen them about eighty years ago, although everything seemed to be shabbier and more decayed. There were hardly any people in the streets and the ones they did meet threw them bewildered looks and started whispering to each other. Legolas could see lights flickering in some of the windows, but most of them were dark.

He signalled Tauriel to stop and bent forward to look around the corner of a small stable building, where he heard pigs grunting and smacking. He turned back to her and indicated their destination with a movement of his head. Tauriel's posture tightened. She peeked over Legolas' shoulder and her expression told him that she had spotted the target.

There were several Orcs on the roof and the terrace of a small wooden house right across the street. A young Edain girl stepped through the front door, unaware of the intruders, and looked out for something in the dark. When she turned around to go back inside, she was attacked.

Legolas and Tauriel leaped forward not one moment too soon. The girl had managed to slam the door shut before the Orc could reach her, but now the whole pack started to invade the house. Screams and the noise of breaking wood came from the inside.

Legolas' first arrow went right through the heart of the attacker on the front porch, the second one brought down another Orc on the terrace. He exchanged a look with Tauriel, then he jumped on the balustrade and climbed the roof, stabbing two of the three remaining Orcs up there with an arrow before he used it to shoot the third one. Tauriel entered the terrace, blades drawn, and sliced two necks before she vanished from Legolas' sight.

He descended through a hole one of the Orcs had left in the roof. There were three Edain children in the room, along with three of the escaped Dwarves. Legolas recognised Kíli, Tauriel's acquaintance, among them. He was obviously suffering from his injury and on top of that he was just about to get stabbed by an Orc. Legolas saw one of Tauriel's daggers fly across the room and pierce the beast's throat. 'Saving that Dwarf's life seems to be her new fulltime occupation,' Legolas could not stop himself from thinking while he knocked another Orc unconscious with his bow handle.

He started shooting at close distance, whereas Tauriel continued slicing and stabbing with lethal precision. For a moment Legolas allowed his eyes to follow her. Granted, she had never been a particularly graceful elleth and her movements were determined rather than poised. But when she fought, she was like an unleashed tempest – fierce, deadly and beautiful.

An Orc's filthy claws on his neck woke Legolas from his contemplation. He broke its nose with a nudge of his elbow and then stabbed it. The children were crouching under the table and the two uninjured Dwarves were trying their best to fight off as many Orcs as they could without proper weapons. Kíli had pulled Tauriel's dagger out of his dead attacker's back and thrust it into another one of the beasts before he collapsed in agony.

Suddenly Legolas heard a rough Orc voice from the street. Apparently it was an order to fall back because the intruders suddenly stopped fighting and left the house. He stepped on the balcony and saw them vanish into the dark. When he came back inside and looked around, there were Orc cadavers all over the floor, but neither the children nor the Dwarves were hurt. Well, at least not more than they had been before, he thought when he saw Kíli on the floor, convulsed with pain. Obviously the poison of the morgul arrow had already started to spread.

Legolas looked at Tauriel, who was staring at Kíli in shock. It obviously broke her heart to see him suffering like that and to know that he would die from his wound sooner or later, but not before having gone through all the agony his body could possibly endure. Legolas had never experienced what a wound of that kind felt like, but seeing the Dwarf was enough to make him cringe. Kíli had stopped screaming and was now gasping for breath while the other Dwarves bent over him and looked at each other in helpless desperation.

Legolas forced his eyes away from them when the mortal boy came out of his hiding place under the table and stated in bewilderment, "You killed them all!"

"There are others," Legolas replied more to Tauriel than to the boy and when she did not look away from the Dwarves, he added, "Tauriel, come!" He walked to the door, determined not to let the beasts escape.

For six hundred years he had been used to her following him, so he did not even turn around until he realised that she was not moving. He glanced back at her, convinced that she had simply not heard him, but then he saw that she seemed to be struggling with the decision whether to follow him.

Legolas could not believe it. He had left his realm and betrayed his father's trust for her and now she was gazing at that almost dead Dwarf she had met a week ago as if she were actually tempted to stay with him and leave her best and oldest friend to face a pack of bloodthirsty Orcs on his own!

"Tauriel!" he called once more, but he could not bring himself to wait for her reaction. Seeing the last Orc vanish in one of the countless narrow alleys, he resolved to leave the choice up to her.

* * *

><p>Tauriel's eyes went to Legolas at the door, then back to Kíli. She could not leave him in this miserable state, although she had no idea how to help him.<p>

Legolas' face turned impatient. "Tauriel!" he repeated. It sounded like an order from prince to captain, but his expression told her a whole different story. A moment later he turned around and left.

Tauriel hesitated, but what could she possibly do for Kíli? Was killing the Orcs not what she had come for in the first place? Legolas needed her – and after all, he had only come on this journey for her sake. She swallowed the lump in her throat, picked up her dagger and rushed out into the dark street.

She did not come far before she bumped into another Dwarf. Judging by the scratches on his face and the state of his clothes, he had run into the Orcs as well. But more importantly, he was holding a plant in his hands that Tauriel recognised immediately after seeing Nimiel and Amril using it a thousand times.

"Athelas!" she whispered and her mind started to race. The idea that came to her was complete and utter madness, but at least things could not get worse for Kíli. As much as it pained her to make the decision, after so many years of leading an army it was not the first time she had to weigh one evil against another. Legolas was an experienced fighter, he stood a realistic chance of surviving – Kíli did not. Tauriel grabbed the plant out of the astonished Dwarf's hands and signalled him to follow her back inside.

"You two! Lift him onto the table!" she instructed the other Dwarves. Kíli groaned under his breath, but he could not summon the strength to struggle. Tauriel gave the athelas leaves to the younger girl and told her to tear them to tiny pieces.

Her brain worked feverishly in order to remember the exact procedure. She knew it by heart in theory because she had interrogated Amril about it countless times to help him prepare for his healer's exams. However, she had never done it herself. Healing a wound like this was not only about performing the right procedure or using the right substances; it was primarily a question of connecting with the wisdom of the Valar and channelling some of their power into the body of the patient. The basic medical training the guards received was worlds apart from the skill level required for this treatment, but what choice did she have?

Tauriel opened the little leather bag on her belt that contained the emergency medical supply every guard had to carry. Her hands were shaking as she took out a tiny bottle full of clear liquid, uncorked it and emptied it into the wooden bowl full of athelas that the girl handed her. She did not even know what exactly the liquid was for – it smelled a bit like very strong wine – but she had been told to use it on every injury she attempted to treat.

Kíli gasped as she ripped apart the blood-soaked fabric of his trousers. She removed the old bandage and her heart stopped for a moment at the horrible sight. The wound had turned black and the skin around the edges was as cold and pale as if it belonged to a dead body.

"Hold him down," she ordered the Dwarves and the children and in her mind she added, 'It will be necessary.' She took some of the herb mixture out of the bowl, rolled it between her fingers and took a deep breath. She asked the Valar for strength and without any more hesitation she pressed it into the wound. Kíli screamed and struggled, but luckily the children and the Dwarves were strong enough to hold him down. Tauriel did not realise she was speaking aloud as she prayed to Estë, the Mistress of Healing. A moment later Kíli fell unconscious.

"What the… How did you… What in Mahal's name is happening to him?" the youngest of the three Dwarves stuttered and shook Kíli's shoulder.

"Stop it!" Tauriel interrupted him and grabbed his arm. "Let him rest. The athelas seems to be working, otherwise he would be dead by now."

"Dead?" he exclaimed. "You risked my brother's life?"

Tauriel looked down at him in surprise. "Your brother? Well, rest assured that without the athelas he would have died anyway. Now he has a fair chance of surviving." The oldest Dwarf pulled the blond one away from the table and whispered something about the privilege of witnessing the art of elvish healing.

Tauriel wiped her hands on her uniform and started to bandage the wound with a piece of linen from her supply. Suddenly she heard Kíli take in a deep breath and turned towards him. He slowly opened one eye, then the other one, and looked around in confusion until he became aware of her presence.

"Tauriel," he whispered, mispronouncing her name in his thick dwarven accent as badly as he always had.

This little glimpse of normality provided a strange comfort and she gave him a smile while answering, "Lie still."

"You cannot be her," Kíli mumbled. "She is far away. She is far, far away from me." He was gazing into the air as if he contemplated something only he could see. "She walks in starlight in another world. It was just a dream."

Tauriel did not know what to answer. He was obviously affected by his fever. She tied the bandage and did her best not to look at the other Dwarves, who were observing her every movement.

All of a sudden Kíli's trembling hand touched hers, and when she let it happen, he asked, "Do you think she could have loved me?"

Tauriel's first reflex was to pull back her hand and say something soothing, but for some inexplicable reason she hesitated. Instead she looked at Kíli and felt a warmth in her heart that had not been there for a long time. In his fever this Dwarf had just confessed to her that he was in love with her – what a strange notion! And yet, although it pained her to disappoint him, Tauriel could not deny that it felt good to receive someone's affection.

She looked up and met the wary stare of the blond Dwarf. 'Great Eru, relax! I'm not going to defile your brother!' she stated to herself sarcastically and rolled her eyes. With a smile at Kíli she said, "You should rest. You'll feel better after a good night's sleep." She let go of his hand and took a step back, noticing with relief that he had indeed closed his eyes again.

With a glance out of the broken window Tauriel resolved that she had tarried long enough. "I must find my friend," she told the Dwarves and the children, picking up her bow from the floor.

When she was halfway to the door, an infernal noise like a thousand rolls of thunder cut through the quiet night. The old Dwarf dropped his ear trumpet and the little girl anxiously grabbed her sister's skirt. Tauriel had heard that noise before, a hundred and seventy years ago.

She rushed back to the table, pulled Kíli up without further ado and threw him over her shoulder, ignoring his groans of pain and his brother's protest. The old Dwarf seemed to understand the situation as well because he had already opened the door and was gesturing at the children. They exchanged hesitant glances with the two other Dwarves, but Tauriel knew there was no time to spare, so she simply shoved the boy towards the door and shouted, "To the water! Now!"


	25. Brown Thrushes

The Long Lake was huge, and yet when the dragon fell into the water with the arrow sticking out of its body, breathing its last weak flames and sending its final roar into the night sky, the sheer heat of its lungs turned a large part of the lake's water into an impenetrable cloud of steam that still covered the miserable remains of the destroyed town when dawn rose. The pale light of the autumn morning revealed the true extent of the catastrophe that the night had mercifully covered. Houses had turned into ruins of smouldering coal, the bodies of people and animals, burnt, suffocated or crushed, covered the few streets that had not drowned in the lake, and the cries of pain and grief would not stop.

However, Tauriel did not see or hear any of it. For hours she had roamed the remaining parts of the town, searching every corner and asking every living being for the whereabouts of Legolas. No one had seen him, or at least no one remembered or cared, for which Tauriel could not blame them. The third time she arrived at the point where she had started her search, she resolved that it was a futile endeavour. Most likely Legolas had not even been in town anymore when the dragon had come, judging from several stabbed Orc cadavers that were distributed between the three children's home and the eastern town gate like a strangely reassuring wake of devastation. Somewhere deep down she knew Legolas was alive. She felt it, just like she could feel the breath and the steady heartbeat of the forest in the distance.

So Tauriel decided to make herself useful as best she could and returned to the Dwarves and the children. They had all survived the massacre more or less unharmed, apart from the shock and a few undramatic burns. Granted, the little girl, Tilda, would have drowned if it had not been for Bofur's presence of mind and quick reaction when the bridge on which they had been standing had collapsed due to the impact of the dragon's body. Tauriel's mind still refused to understand how an inhabitant of a town built above a lake could survive without being able to swim. But again, she reasoned, Edain children grew up incredibly fast, so the girl had probably not had the opportunity to learn it yet.

She found the small group where she had left them a few hours ago, at the eastern lakeshore, where most of the survivors were assembled by now. Kíli was sitting on the ground, leaning against a large rock with his injured leg stretched out. He was making an effort to look brave, but Tauriel could imagine in how much pain he was. The old Dwarf, who had introduced himself as Óin, sat beside him, speaking to him in Khuzdul. Fíli and Bofur – who had managed to keep his strange hat on his head throughout the whole massacre – were helping a family of Lakepeople out of their boat.

Tauriel approached Kíli and Óin and suddenly she noticed how exhausted she was. Not so much physically, but her mind was all drained and blurry. She let herself fall into the wet sand next to the Dwarves and said nothing for a while, until Kíli addressed her carefully.

"No sign of him?"

Tauriel shook her head slowly without looking at him. "He'll be all right," she finally managed to say, "I would know if he wasn't." From the corner of her eyes she saw Kíli's jaw clench for the split of a second.

"Where are the children?" Tauriel changed the subject, trying to find them in the crowd of wet, dirty, confused Lakepeople.

Óin gestured vaguely with his ear trumpet and replied, "Over there, with their father. It was him who killed the dragon, you know." Tauriel looked at him in astonishment. "Yes," Óin affirmed, "of course the arrow that did it was forged by our people, but it was Bard who bent the bow. He asked for you, by the way. He wants to thank you for saving his children." A sigh escaped Tauriel's lips. The last thing she needed was a polite conversation with a happily reunited family, but she silenced the unsociable feeling and got up again to meet the infamous bowman.

When she worked her way through the crowd, the first one who became aware of her presence was Tilda. She let go of her father's hand and came running towards Tauriel, surprising her with an unexpected hug. At first Tauriel was unsure how to react, but then she felt an involuntary smile spread over her face.

"We worried about you," the girl stated, took her hand and pulled her towards the rest of the family.

Tauriel grinned and gave back, "There's no need, I'm pretty hard to get rid of."

"I should say," the man who was now standing in front of her affirmed. He was tall for a Lakeman, his weather-beaten face wore a grim but proud expression and for some reason, despite his ragged and drenched clothes, every inch of him looked rather like a king than a poor fisherman.

Tauriel bowed her head and greeted him politely, "Bard the dragon slayer – it is an honour to meet you."

"The honour is all mine, Lady Tauriel," he replied, returning the gesture. "My children told me you and your companion saved them from a pack of Orcs. I'm in your debt for as long as I live."

"Please," Tauriel interrupted him with a dismissive wave of her hand, feeling slightly uncomfortable. "We came to eliminate those Orcs anyway because they had raided our land. And don't call me 'lady', I'm just a… Well, I used to be an officer with the Woodland Guard." She gulped and tried to maintain her indifferent expression.

Bard's eyes all but pierced her with an investigative glance, but he did not inquire further. Instead he pointed out, "Then I'm sure you could help us bring some order to this chaos." He gestured around and added, "Unless you have to leave right now…"

Tauriel bit her lip and looked at the children, the Dwarves and all the Lakepeople. She knew that every hand was needed badly and she wanted to help, but she could not forsake Legolas a second time. She turned back to Bard and answered, "I'm afraid I can't. There is someone I have to find first..."

She was interrupted by the arrival of two men looking for Bard. They started talking to him both at once and Tauriel wondered how he could even understand them. They dragged him along with them, barely giving him time to instruct his eldest daughter to take care of her siblings. Tauriel stood in the middle of it all and felt a little lost, until one of the men turned back to her and eyed her confusedly from head to toe. "You're an Elf," he pointed out.

Tauriel arched an eyebrow. "Well spotted."

The man ignored her snide remark and went on, "One of your kinsmen is looking for you, somewhere over there." He indicated the rough direction of Bard's former home. Tauriel did not waste a moment, thanked him hastily and started her way through the crowd once more.

* * *

><p>The throbbing in his nose was getting more bearable and he was starting to get used to the damp, smoky air, but still Legolas found himself caught in the worst nightmare of his life. Having to look for a loved one in the aftermath of a massacre had always seemed the most horrible part of war to him, although he had only heard about it in ancient stories.<p>

Why in the names of all the Ainur had he ever left Tauriel? He should have stayed with her, watching that unfortunate Dwarf die if he meant that much to her, let the Orcs escape if necessary. But no, he had chosen his wounded pride over her safety. Now Esgaroth lay in ashes, hundreds of people were dead, the dragon was slain – and Legolas had possibly lost something that could never be replaced. The realisation hit him without warning and he had to stop and lean against a bridge pier in order to process it. Tauriel – the mere thought of never seeing her again made his stomach cramp.

He stayed immobile for a while, staring at the ruin of the house where they had fought the Orcs. Suddenly a small brown bird landed on another pier next to him and eyed him curiously. "What are you looking at?" Legolas heard himself mutter. The bird – it was thrush, to be precise – tilted its tiny head. At the sight of the animal, a vague thought crossed Legolas' mind and he walked towards it.

"Listen!" he requested, ignoring the bewildered glances of two Lakewomen coming by. "Can you do me a favour?" The bird stared at him attentively, which he took as a yes. "Will you fly to Greenwood for me and tell the Eldar what happened here? Please ask the Elvenking to send help – and tell him that his son is alive."

The thrush chirped twice, ruffled its feathers and fluttered off. Legolas was not sure whether the bird was going to fulfil his request or not, but he could not concentrate enough to worry about it. He turned back towards the destroyed house, resolving to continue his most likely pointless search, when all of a sudden his heart stopped at the sight offered to him.

"Mellon nín," Tauriel said slowly and gave him an insecure smile. Her clothes were wet, she was covered in soot and some strands of her hair looked singed, but apart from that she seemed unharmed. She took a hesitant step towards him and stuttered, "I was starting to think you were… I'm sorry I abandoned you, it was…"

"Shut up!" he interrupted her, not intending to sound half as rude as he did, but unable to come up with anything more eloquent. He closed the short distance between them and took her in his arms without another word, thanking Eru, the Valar and every deity of Men and Dwarves for giving her back to him.

They stood like this for half an eternity, silently holding each other close, until Tauriel whispered, "You know, we have to let go eventually," while not making the slightest attempt to implement her own suggestion.

Legolas did not feel inclined to do so either, but finally he brought himself to release her. She gave him a sooty half-smile and to him she had never been as lovely as she was in this very moment, despite the state she was in. Her mere presence made all the horror and pain around them bearable. 'Eru help me, I'm in so much trouble,' Legolas thought, remembering who was waiting for him back in the Woodland Palace and realising what an unforgivably stupid mistake he might have made.

"What happened to your nose?" Tauriel inquired, interrupting his thoughts.

Legolas touched it and the stinging pain made him grimace. "The leader of the Orc pack left me a souvenir before he escaped," he stated. "I lost him about two miles from the town boundary."

Tauriel frowned guiltily. "And I wasn't there to fight with you." Instead of an answer he simply shook his head and returned her smile. Truth be told, he had been angry with her a while ago, but now he was far too happy about her being safe and sound to keep it up.

"What about the Dwarves and the children?" he asked, dreading the answer.

Surprisingly enough Tauriel informed him, "They're fine. Well, except Kíli, he's still struggling with his injury, but he's holding up bravely."

"He's alive?" Legolas exclaimed in astonishment. Having seen the Dwarf's state the night before, he would have bet his right hand on him being dead by now.

Tauriel nodded and her face showed a hint of pride. "Yes! One of his companions found some athelas and luckily I happened to remember how Nimiel and Amril use it."

"Are you telling me that you successfully cured a morgul wound?" Legolas had trouble believing her, but her face told him that he had indeed understood her correctly.

"'Cured' may be too much said, but at least he will survive," Tauriel affirmed. "As for the children, they're unharmed as well. And guess what: Their father shot the dragon."

"Did he?" Legolas interjected. "I heard the townspeople talk about him, they called him Bard the Bowman and apparently lots of them want him to be their new leader."

"Yes, they do," Tauriel agreed and paused as if she wanted to say more but did not dare. Legolas tilted his head and looked at her questioningly. After another moment she breathed in deeply and blurted, "You'll probably want to kill me for this, but Bard asked me to stay here to help and I really want to do it." She had said it as quickly as she could and was now glancing up at him with the expression of a guilty elfling that made Legolas chuckle despite the circumstances.

"Which part of that is supposed to surprise me?" he asked her. "I'm not going to kill you because for now I'm still too relieved to see you alive."

Tauriel's face was touched by a warmth that went right into Legolas' heart when she replied, "So am I to see you."

"Will you go home right now?" she inquired after a moment and Legolas needed to stop and sort out her words first before he even grasped her point.

"I'm not going anywhere!" he protested. "I certainly won't leave you alone in the middle of this mess." 'Not again,' he added in his mind and aloud he continued, "If we leave, we will leave together."

"Please, Legolas, don't stay for my sake," Tauriel tried to persuade him. "You should return to your father, he must be worried out of his mind, just like Gelinnas. Your place is with them, not with me, some Dwarves and a bunch of homeless Lakepeople."

Legolas cringed internally and could not help thinking that one look at her was enough to tell him exactly where his place was in that moment. "Don't waste your breath on this hopeless endeavour, meldis nín," he demanded. "You won't get rid of me. We'll go home together when this is over."

A shadow flashed over Tauriel's face and she looked to the ground. "I don't think I'll be welcomed there with too much enthusiasm."

Legolas took her hand and waited until she looked at him again before he reminded her, "You too have a family and friends who are waiting for you to return safely."

"I do," she allowed, "but there is also a king whose orders I defied. My dismissal with disgrace has most likely already been signed and sealed." Her voice sounded perfectly neutral – with Tauriel that was a worse sign than tears, as Legolas knew very well.

"We'll see about that," he stated for lack of anything more helpful. "I sent a bird to Greenwood right before you arrived. Even if it doesn't comply with my request, our people will soon hear what happened and I'm sure my father will send help. By then we'll know."

Tauriel forced her lips to produce a smile that did not reach her eyes. She looked at him for a while as if she pondered a decision. "Maybe it's even for the best if I don't…" Her fingers squeezed his hand for a second or two, but then she seemed to push the idea away, shook her head and let go of his hand. "Never mind! Let's find Bard."

* * *

><p>The news of the massacre in Esgaroth reached Nimiel on the least desirable way – by plain and simple gossip. She was working in the laboratory, brewing a pain-relieving tincture for one of the guards who had been injured during the Orc attack at the watergate, when the door suddenly flung open without a knock and Amril stormed in.<p>

"Naneth!" he addressed her breathlessly. "The dragon is dead! Esgaroth has been destroyed, the Dwarves… Erebor…"

He was struggling hopelessly to find a coherent beginning for all the different things he wanted to say, so Nimiel cut him short, "Ion nín! What in Eru's name are you talking about?"

Amril took a deep breath and started again, "Belegor just told me that a bird brought the most alarming news from Esgaroth: The escaped prisoners must have made it to Erebor and awakened the dragon, which then flew out of the mountain and laid waste to Esgaroth before being killed by a Lakeman."

Nimiel's eyes widened and her voice caught in her throat when she gasped, "What about Tauriel and Legolas?" There had been no signs of them since they had left the realm the day of the Orc attack and Nimiel did not know how she had survived the past few days without going insane. Of course the Guard had turned every stone in the forest looking for them and the king had even sent out a party of scouts beyond the eastern border, but until then the search had been in vain.

Amril's expression reflected concern and relief at the same time. "At least Legolas is alive. He's the one who sent the message. As for Tauriel, she wasn't mentioned."

Nimiel nodded slowly, then another question crossed her mind, "How does Belegor know all this?"

Now Amril was clearly at a loss of words. He grimaced and brought himself to mutter, "Because he's currently roaming the healing quarters by order of the king in search of volunteers who will go to Esgaroth along with the Guard. Apparently the king intends to march to Erebor."

It took Nimiel all her self-control to stay calm. Thranduil did not deem it necessary to inform her before taking her healers on such an undertaking and he had not even told her about the news concerning her daughter! "Excuse me," she managed to say to Amril, "I have an unexpected audience with the king." With that she took off her apron, left the half-done tincture on the table and started her way to the royal quarters.

She found Thranduil in the throne room, where he was discussing with some officers of the Guard, namely the four lieutenants and Etheldir. The latter was wearing the silver captain's badge and looked as uncomfortable as if he would rather be on a sightseeing trip to the Dead Marshes than anywhere near the king. He had taken over Tauriel's duties – officially for as long as her whereabouts were unclear, but everyone knew that it would most likely be a permanent arrangement. He had been the captain's right hand for long enough to know his way around all her tasks. Yet, also being a friend of hers, he was not too happy to take her place after she had fallen from the king's favour.

Although the two watchmen on either side of the bridge leading to the throne observed Nimiel's abrupt entrance in confusion, they did not dare step into the way of the head of the healing quarters. She ascended the stairs to the throne and planted herself in front of the king, arms crossed and a murderous glare in her eyes. When Thranduil became aware of her, there was no doubt that he knew exactly what he was in for.

"My lady," he greeted her as indifferently as he could manage, "may I inquire after the business that brings you here without any premonition?" He raised an eyebrow, obviously sensing the upcoming storm and hoping to maintain his dignity in front of his soldiers. Nimiel understood his motives and, although he did not deserve it in the slightest, she decided to be merciful.

"I just received a most unsettling piece of news, and as you were certainly going to inform me about it very soon, I resolved to come here and save you the trouble," she pointed out in her most ladylike tone.

Thranduil cleared his throat and looked back and forth between her and the officers. Etheldir was clearly struggling to bite back a grin. "Lieutenants," the king addressed Orchalon, Tuven and Glandir, "gather your units and prepare them to march. We are leaving tomorrow at dawn. Alation, you will be in charge of the realm's safety until we return. Etheldir, you know what to do. You may all be dismissed."

The five of them bowed and took their leave, while Nimiel stayed immobile and simply continued staring at the king until he stated, "You seem to have forgotten your manners."

"I have forgotten my manners?" she repeated in utter disbelief. "When were you going to tell me about that message from Legolas? And why in the name of the Great Ilúvatar are you going to take troops to Erebor?"

"My lady, you may want to reconsider your tone," Thranduil warned her coldly.

Nimiel did not bat an eye when she gave back, "This is about my daughter just as much as your son. Do you not think I deserve to know about it?"

The king let out a deep breath and replied more calmly, "As well as I understand your concern, Tauriel committed treason by leaving the realm against my explicit order and she endangered the life of my son with her thoughtless actions."

"Very well," Nimiel conceded dryly, "although I find it rather hard to believe that Tauriel dragged Legolas along by force." At that Thranduil's eyebrows shot up and he glared at her for a second, but there was no reasonable objection, so he only gave her a sour frown and stayed quiet.

In an attempt to reconcile him Nimiel remarked, "It is very admirable of you to send healers to Esgaroth."

Thranduil nodded shortly. "The Lakemen have always been on good terms with the Woodland Realm."

On seeing his frown vanishing, Nimiel made another careful advance, "May I ask why you instructed Belegor to recruit the volunteers instead of me? The healers' assignments are my responsibility, after all."

Thranduil threw her a long thoughtful look that reflected almost as much as affection before he explained, "Because hearing from Legolas after all these days of worrying unsettled me greatly and I did not feel strong enough to talk you out of going to Esgaroth yourself just yet."

If it had not been for her anger about his indifferent attitude towards Tauriel's fate, Nimiel would have smiled. "Why would you talk me out of it?" she wanted to know. "My skills would be far more useful there than they are here."

"They certainly would," the king admitted, "but our endeavour will not be done by providing the Lakepeople with medical help and provisions. We will continue our way to Erebor and I cannot guarantee that we will be received peacefully."

"But why?" Nimiel interjected. "What is there in Erebor that you would risk an armed conflict for? Do not tell me it is Thrór's treasure!"

Thranduil's lips tightened and he gave back, "After the dragon's death it is very likely that all sorts of dubious folks will try and claim that gold, the Dwarves of the Iron Hills first of all. If a new dwarven kingdom is founded right on our doorstep, I prefer to be present. I say it cannot hurt to take a look and maybe make a few arrangements to our advantage."

Nimiel only shook her head in silence. As she knew it was pointless to reason with him in that matter, she revisited the previous topic, "In that case you will need good healers too."

"Indeed we will," the king replied, "and we will take whoever you see fit – except yourself. I will not have you go anywhere near a possible battle."

Nimiel frowned. "Is this an order?"

Thranduil hesitated for a moment before he answered, "It is a request. Please do not force me to make it an order."

With a sigh of frustration Nimiel gave in, "Fine then. But do me a favour and try to bring everyone back in one piece."

"I shall do my best," the king assured her.

* * *

><p>The four Dwarves had gathered the few belongings they had left and were ready to leave the camp in order to see if any of their companions had survived the awakening of the dragon under the Lonely Mountain. No one had much hope, but nevertheless they had been waiting impatiently for Kíli to regain the necessary strength for the journey.<p>

Óin shook Bard's hand one more time and thanked him again for his hospitality. Bofur said goodbye to the three children by hugging them and giving each of them a small wooden animal he had carved from a fairly unburnt plank. Fíli glanced anxiously at his brother, whose wound had healed enough for him to walk after a fashion. Of course Kíli did not admit his pain, but it was obvious nevertheless.

Tauriel came to join them after replacing the watchmen at the northern camp limits. As the Master of Esgaroth had given up responsibility for his townspeople and left the field to Bard, the latter had entrusted Tauriel with setting up a provisional defence system. They both knew it would not be of any use in case of emergency, but at least it helped to raise the people's morale, which was practically non-existent due to starvation, cold and spreading diseases. Tauriel herself, being used to long forest patrols under less than favourable weather conditions, did not mind the current situation too much, but for the Lakepeople, mostly the children and the old ones, it was a struggle for mere survival.

"Ready to go home?" Tauriel asked the Dwarves with a forced smile and obtained four more or less convinced nods. She accompanied the Dwarves beyond the eastern edge of the camp, where they halted and threw a last look back at the miserable crowd of Lakepeople and contemplated the mountain ahead of them in silent deference.

Bofur was the first one to say goodbye to her. "Keep an eye on those children, will you?" he requested and Tauriel could clearly see how much it worried him to leave them in such desolate conditions after befriending them during the last few days.

"Whenever I can," she assured him.

Óin muttered something in Khuzdul and shook her hand while wishing her Mahal's blessings. Fíli, who was still not too trusting towards her despite her saving his brother's life a whole of four times, said a few polite words and bowed his head to her.

Kíli did not look at her until she left him no choice by addressing him, "I hope seeing your ancestors' home for the first time will be a joyful occasion."

He gave her an insecure grin and replied a little redundantly, "Me too, for sure." After a short awkward pause he added, "And I'm crossing my fingers that your king won't rip your head off. Would be a shame, really." Tauriel let out a half-hearted chuckle.

She put her hand on his shoulder and said quietly, "May the stars of Elbereth shine upon your path until we meet again." She had known this Dwarf for less than a month, but after everything they had been through together she felt deeply connected to him and it worried her to see him – and his kin – leave for an uncertain fate. She would not be around to save him this time.

She felt Kíli's dirty hand full of burn blisters brush lightly over her fingers. "However this turns out, I'm glad I met you," he uttered, "and I hope it wasn't the last time."

Tauriel smiled at him. "I'm sure it won't be. Good luck to all of you." With that she left the Dwarves to the mercy of the Valar and started her way back to the camp.

When she arrived, everyone seemed to be in uproar. The townspeople were whispering, their faces reflecting equal parts of fear and hope. Bard and Legolas were speaking to each other in hushed voices; the prince was obviously trying to reassure the Lakeman. Tauriel approached them and inquired after the reason behind the general commotion and her jaw literally dropped for a second when Legolas told her what was going on.

"Our people are coming," he said. "My father is bringing almost the whole Guard, the watchmen saw them."

"Eru help us," she could not stop herself from blurting.

Legolas gave her a nod full of shared concern. "We'll get through this together," he declared once again. "Just try not to aggravate him further, be a little repentant if necessary."

"But I did nothing wrong!" Tauriel protested, causing a smile of pure resignation to spread over Legolas' face. Without saying anything more, he signalled her and Bard to follow him.

The king had ordered his host to halt directly before the limits of the camp. Tauriel looked into the faces of her officers and soldiers, the people she had worked with every day for centuries, and yet they all suddenly seemed like strangers to her. She held herself in the background as best she could while Legolas and Bard approached the king.

When Thranduil became aware of his son, at first his face did not show any emotion. He just gazed down on him from the back of his elk. Legolas took a few hesitant steps towards him and bowed his head in silence. Then, after some excruciatingly long seconds, the king dismounted and came to a stand in front of his son. Tauriel's senses could almost palpate the tension between them. Finally the king broke his icy stare and said, "Let us delay this argument, ion nín." Without further ado he embraced Legolas tightly. Tauriel nearly gasped in surprise.

The king was introduced to Bard, whom he greeted in a friendly and almost respectful manner when hearing that he was in fact speaking to the infamous dragon slayer.

Truth be told, Tauriel was not too keen to face her king again, but of course the meeting could not be avoided. In the end it was Legolas who reminded his father of her existence and all but dragged her before him. She could not think of any way to address him, so she simply stayed silent and waited for him to throw at her whatever reproach he deemed appropriate. He assessed her coldly for what felt like a century and if she had not been too busy trying to maintain her dignified expression, she might have noticed the tiny flicker of regret in his eyes.

"Such a waste," was the only thing he said to her before he turned away and left her to the certainty that this was the end of her career – just as she had expected and just what a disobedient soldier deserved. She noticed Legolas searching her eyes, but she pretended not to see him. She did not want or need his words of comfort because she was well aware that she had brought all of it on herself and she regretted nothing.

While the king walked on, Tauriel vaguely heard Legolas point out the provisional defence system she had set up. She wanted to choke her friend for this futile attempt to appease the king, although she knew that he meant well. Not much to her surprise, Thranduil's only reaction consisted of an indifferent "Indeed, it is rather unmistakable," without any further recognition before he turned to Bard again.

Immediately after getting an overview of the situation, Thranduil ordered his soldiers to enter the camp. As Tauriel had hoped, the Eldar had brought provisions and tools as well as a group of craftsmen to set up some emergency accommodations for the homeless people.

There were a few healers as well – before Tauriel could even scan the crowd for one particular familiar face, the person in question already dismounted his horse, came towards her and started ranting, "Tauriel, you bloody, Eru-forsaken, silly… Ugh, come here!" Amril almost crushed her with his hug, unwilling to let go until she squirmed herself out of his arms and gave him a guilty grin.

"What on earth possessed you to run after those Orcs?" he continued lecturing, probably in order to live up to his long-lapsed role of the elder brother. "Do you have any idea how worried we were? You couldn't possibly have sent a message, could you?" His reproachful words were ridiculed by the happy expression on his face and Tauriel could not help but laugh, although she did feel terribly guilty.

"I'm sorry," was all she managed to answer, knowing that it would not help at all, but seeing that Amril had already forgiven her.

"The first bird I encounter is going to fly home to tell Naneth that you're alive," he muttered. "But now I have to do some work…" He threw a glance at his fellow healers, who had already set off in direction of the camp. "After all that slaying and butchering that happened here it's time to save some lives for a change."

'Wait until I tell you about Kíli's morgul wound,' Tauriel stated to herself, but she kept it to herself for the moment.

From his saddlebags Amril produced his equipment and advised Tauriel, "You should go over to your comrades. I'm not the only one who wants to rip your head off."

Tauriel did as requested and one by one she received the concentrated fury mingled with affection of Etheldir, the lieutenants and of course Sidhril, who took turns between swearing to break Tauriel's every bone and expressing her happiness to see her friend unharmed, until she was called back to duty by Fiondir.

While the soldiers were pitching up their camp supervised by the lieutenants, Tauriel stayed with Etheldir to tackle the inevitable awkward subject. "So, he made you clean up my mess?" she asked, referring to the king and pointing at the captain's batch on Etheldir's shoulder.

Her comrade shifted uncomfortably from one leg to the other. "This is a temporary arrangement, I'm sure…"

With a wave of her hand Tauriel interrupted him, "Both of us know that I'll never command anyone ever again. And I knew what I was getting myself into, so there's no need to pity me. How are you holding up so far?"

He let out a sigh and scratched the back of his head. "I'm starting to understand why you looked so grumpy most of the time. Those lieutenants…" He stopped, rolling his eyes.

Tauriel smiled bitterly. "As long as the king hasn't officially discharged me, I guess he can't forbid me to advise you discreetly, if you want me to. But for now, although I have no idea whether I still belong to the Guard, will you please just give me something to do?"

She would not have thought it possible, but Etheldir's face became even more uncomfortable. "Come on," Tauriel encouraged him, "I'm not your captain anymore, you can order me around."

"All right," he improvised after a short silence. "You're familiar with the camp and its surroundings. Take a walk with me and show me your defence system." Tauriel nodded and tried to get used to the fact that the next few days, weeks or months – depending on the king's decision regarding her future – would probably be the most awkward period of all her life.

* * *

><p>It was around dawn and Tauriel was walking back and forth on her post. Without asking anyone's official permission, she had made herself part of the watch, much to the contentment of Sidhril, with whom she shared most of her shifts.<p>

Several days had passed since the arrival of the Woodland host and a new challenge had emerged from the conversations of Bard and the king. The dragon slayer argued that he deserved a share in the treasure of the Dwarves in order to rebuild both towns that had been destroyed by the beast. Thranduil supported his claim, calculating that his support might lead to future trade agreements with these potentially flourishing cities and obviously hoping to derive a benefit for his own treasury as well.

As no one had obtained any news from Thorin Oakenshield's company in the mountain, the men and Eldar had set out to inquire after them. They had found thirteen very much alive Dwarves and one halfling, whose existence surprised the Eldar greatly. Thorin had been unwilling to cooperate and refused to come out of his stronghold.

Ever since the War of the Last Alliance, Thranduil had given up on any sort of pointless, time-devouring courtesy when he had an army at his disposal, so he had simply decided to besiege the mountain. Now most of the Woodland Guard and the few Lakemen who were able to fight were camping before the gates of Erebor, waiting for the Dwarves to get tired of the game.

Tauriel and Sidhril had already spent more than enough hours mocking that futile endeavour, so at present they only tried to keep themselves tolerably warm and motivated. The king still chose to ignore his former captain's uncertain situation, giving Tauriel no other choice than to stay quiet and make herself useful as best she could.

In the meantime Legolas had received the long-expected paternal tirade of disappointment, but as Thranduil could not afford to spare another one of his most skilled warriors, their family feud had ended soon enough. The prince spoke to Tauriel as often as he could, so she knew a lot about the current state of the undertaking. Still, she had been more than surprised when he had told her about a most unexpected visitor the night before.

Apparently the mysterious halfling had snuck out of the mountain and offered the besiegers a very valuable bargain: He had stolen a certain jewel that seemed to be of great importance to Thorin for some reason. The Men and Eldar had tried to trade it in for the share of the treasure that Bard claimed for the Lakemen, but all they had received was the halfling himself, who had been thrown out of Erebor by his infuriated dwarven leader and could most likely count his blessings for being alive. Tauriel had not seen the curious little fellow yet, but Legolas had described him to her in the most colourful ways.

There had even been another new addition to the illustrious circle of those who had nothing better to do than make the Woodland Guard camp out in the cold, staring at an impenetrable mountain fortress day in and day out. An Istar had joined them, more precisely the one who was called Mithrandir. He seemed to play a certain part in the Dwarves' whole quest, although Tauriel had not quite understood the details. All she knew for sure was that things were getting more and more uncomfortable and annoying.

The shift change was nearing and both Sidhril and Tauriel were looking forward to a cup of hot tea and a fire to warm their hands after a long night of gazing into the darkness and looking out for non-existent threats. At least the stars could be seen more clearly than under the thick foliage of Greenwood, Tauriel reasoned, but that small comfort did not quite manage to raise her spirits.

When her slow and steady steps brought her to the spot where she could see her comrade once again, she wondered at Sidhril's rigid posture and attentive stare into the distance. She walked towards her and threw a glance in the same direction. "What in Manwë's name…" was all she could utter at the sight that was offered to her.

An army was approaching the mountain from the East. It was Dwarves, as far as Tauriel could distinguish, heavily armed, clad in shimmering steel and riding on – she did not even trust her own eyes – wild boars, wearing battle armour as well. The host was moving fast and there was no time to spare, so both soldiers hurried to the camp to inform their companions about this alarming new development.

* * *

><p>"Long will I tarry, ere I begin this war for gold," the king stated firmly and slammed his hand on the wooden barrel that served as an improvised map table in his tent.<p>

Bard and his second in command exchanged a frown. "We have been waiting out here in the cold for long enough, have we not?" the dragon slayer asked. "Are we going to let those blasted Dwarves fool us? We can easily get rid of them, convince Thorin Oakenshield that we are not willing to submit to his games and finally end this whole misery!" He looked no less determined than Thranduil.

Legolas wondered if they were going to settle their argument before the Dwarves of the Iron Hills got tired of waiting and attacked. The prince would rather have avoided a battle, but the signs did not look favourable. The Woodland Guard had already been prepared and positioned, as had the forces of the Lakemen, and the dwarven host, consisting of no more than five hundred warriors, but obviously battle-tested and rather bloodthirsty ones, was waiting in the distance.

Legolas could see how much his father loathed the idea of several Free Peoples fighting each other. He, who had seen battles far more horrific than any of the present people could imagine, would not willingly send his soldiers to slay Dwarves, whatever grudges he held against them. On the other hand, Legolas understood Bard's point as well. The Lakemen needed their share of the treasure badly and the situation in the camp by the Long Lake was not improving. The sooner the siege ended, the better for them. Furthermore it was true that summoning an army of his kin to set them against the Eldar and Men was the most outrageous move Thorin Oakenshield had made so far.

Legolas' contemplations were violently interrupted by the entrance of the wizard Mithrandir. He rushed into the tent, his wooden staff in one hand and his tattered grey hat in the other, and shouted, "Halt! Dread has come upon you all! It has come more swiftly than I guessed."

The king threw a confused look at the Istar and inquired, "What are you talking about? Would you care to explain yourself?"

"The Goblins are upon you," Mithrandir gave back. "Bolg of the North is coming!" Legolas felt his face freeze and saw that his father, Bard and all the other present officers shared his reaction.

"Goblins?" the dragon slayer asked in confusion. "How many?"

"Take a look yourself, Master Bard," the wizard replied, gesturing towards the exit of the tent. So they all did and what they saw in the distance made them forget all intentions of fighting the Dwarves over some gold. Now everything was about surviving.

The sky was blackened by a gigantic cloud of flying creatures – Legolas could vaguely identify them as bats – and an army of the most terrifying size was approaching the mountain at a quick pace. The bats were darkening the sky so that the Orcs could move in daylight and their crude battle cries resounded in the desolate wilderness.

"You either join forces with the Dwarves or you die," Mithrandir pointed out pragmatically. No one could argue with him on that point and so messengers were sent to Dáin Ironfoot, leader of the dwarven host, who had no reasonable objection either.

"Who would have thought that we would ever fight side by side with Dwarves?" Thranduil grumbled while signalling Legolas, Etheldir and the lieutenants to step back into the tent with him. Orchalon responded with an unintelligible muttering, while the other soldiers only exchanged concerned glances.

"Glandir!" the king addressed the lieutenant of the Southern Border Guard, who snapped to attention right away, "you will take your division to the eastern side of Ravenhill. Tuven, to the western edge!"

"Yes, my lord," both of them replied simultaneously and left the tent.

"You, Orchalon," Thranduil went on to the Forest Guard lieutenant, "your division will join the Lakemen on the mountain spur east of Ravenhill." The officer nodded and took his leave as well.

Legolas saw and heard everything through a veil of blurriness. He was going to war – his brain refused to understand the full meaning of that thought. He had grown up with stories about ferocious battles, but he would never have imagined being thrown into one himself, just like most of the Woodland soldiers out there. Of course he had lots of experience in fighting, but killing spiders and slaying Orcs in Greenwood could not be compared to an actual battle.

He recognised fierce determination and a glimmer of hate on his father's face, along with something else that could best be described as… fear. On seeing Thranduil afraid, the warrior he had always admired for his heroic deeds in ancient times, a shiver ran down Legolas' spine.

The king now addressed Etheldir, "We need to make sure the Orcs do not encircle the mountain. If they do, we stand no chance because their number is far beyond ours. They have to approach the gate, where we will be waiting for them on either side and surround them. So we need a unit of no more than twenty soldiers to lure them into the trap."

Etheldir stared at the king in disbelief for a few seconds. "You mean decoy them?" he asked rather redundantly. "But, my lord, that would be a suicidal mission."

"Indeed it is," the king gave back without any emotion, "And I know just the person reckless enough to lead it."

* * *

><p>Tauriel threw a last look at the map of the Lonely Mountain and the Ravenhill. She knew the plan, she had gathered her twenty soldiers and now she was ready to ride out and face the horde of savage beasts that was advancing at a merciless speed. Granted, she had been surprised when Etheldir had hesitantly informed her about the king's order, but it was only natural that Thranduil would send someone he did not have the smallest regard for on such a mission. He knew that she was his best bet and additionally he would not care at all if she did not return – or at least so she thought. To her it was all the same; she did not intend to lose her life on this battlefield, but it had always been part of her duty never to know if she would see the next sunrise.<p>

She tightened the lacing of her vambraces, checked the number of arrows in her quiver once more and was just about to leave the tent, when she bumped into Legolas, who entered hectically and shoved her back inside.

"Tauriel," he uttered breathlessly, "please don't do this! Those Orcs will cut you to pieces." His hands were trembling and his eyes reflected his worry.

She gave him a reassuring look and asked in return, "And if I don't go, what then? The others will still be cut to pieces. If the Valar want me to live, I have nothing to fear, and if they want me to die, I may just as well die among my comrades, in the service of my people."

Legolas let out a deep breath. "Then I will come with you."

"Most certainly not!" Tauriel protested, waving her hands in refusal. "Your father would hold you back with his teeth if necessary. And he's right, I would do the same if I could." Imagining him on the mission he was trying to talk her out of suddenly made her understand his concern a lot better.

He caught her hands and looked at her firmly. "I do not know much about battles," he admitted, "but I do know that you should never enter one on your own. If you insist on going through with this madness, I will at least keep an eye on you. From the distance, for all I care, but within firing range. Just promise me not to risk more than you absolutely have to."

Tauriel nodded slowly, dreading the moment when she would have to let go of his hands and watch him join the soldiers. "I promise," she gave back, "but only if you do the same. I will keep an eye on you as well. Let's just agree that we will see each other again."

Tauriel had no idea what was happening when she suddenly felt Legolas' arms around her and his lips on hers. Her mind was paralysed by fear of the upcoming battle and her voice of reason was far too weak to make her pull away. It took her a while even to remember that he was betrothed, but still she could not bring herself to break the kiss. The warmth of his lips, the tight grip of his hands around her body and the touch of his skin were all that mattered to her in that moment. If this should be the last time she saw him, at least she would depart from him in honesty, without wearing a mask.

"Gandalf, what am I even going to do out there?" a high-pitched voice right outside the tent made both Eldar give a start and break apart immediately. They exchanged a look of bewilderment for a split of a second before two more people entered the tent. Tauriel vaguely recognised the wizard and the halfling, who were apparently caught in a heated discussion.

She glanced at Legolas again, feeling her cheeks flush crimson and asking herself what in the names of all the Valar had gotten into her. He blinked and looked back and forth between her and the unexpected intruders. The wizard raised an eyebrow, whereas the halfling only seemed genuinely unsettled over his personal concerns.

Tauriel forced her mind to think straight again. She gave the two strangers a nod and squeezed past Legolas without looking at him. At the exit she turned towards him once more and muttered, "Good luck," before she rushed out of the tent as fast as she could, trying to keep her mind as empty as possible.

* * *

><p>The sky was dark and the valley resounded with shrieks and roars and the brassy voices of steel and iron. There was blood everywhere, red and black, and hope was receding further into the distance with every Man, Dwarf or Elda laying down their lives before the gate of Erebor. The small allegiance of Free Peoples had never stood a true chance against the sheer mass of Orcs and Wargs, and still they kept on fighting because they knew that a worse fate than death on the battlefield would await them if they yielded.<p>

Tauriel's unit had managed to lure the attackers between the mountain spurs by riding out in a pretended attack – a ridiculously simple trick, but the Orcs had been enraged and bloodthirsty enough to fall for it. Five of the twenty soldiers under Tauriel's command had been the first victims of the battle. By now, the bodies of friends and foes lying side by side in the mud and on the rocks were beyond count.

Despite Thranduil's provident planning, in the end the enemies had encircled the mountain and were now attacking from all sides and from above. Tauriel held on to her daggers for dear life and sliced through one more neck. She had lost count of her killings long ago, and not just because the throbbing pain in her left side forced her to focus all her concentration on staying upright. Her will to survive was still stronger than her desperation on watching her comrades fall one after another.

She saw Etheldir, the wizard and the king fighting among their men on the Ravenhill, holding up bravely but steadily losing ground to the black ocean of beasts. The same was happening to the Lakemen and Orchalon's division on the eastern spur. Since the last time Tauriel had caught a glimpse of Sidhril, half an eternity had passed.

Tauriel herself was caught in between the mountain spurs, in front of the great gate of Erebor. Warriors of all races were mingled in that horrible melting pot, dead and alive, ferocious and desperate, all of them equal participants in the deadly dance of war. An arrow flew across Tauriel's field of vision next to her right ear. She could rather feel than hear the soft swish and bent to the left to avoid it. In the same movement she drew her bow and delivered an arrow of her own towards the source of the missile – the Orc on the rocks at the foot of the mountain gave a shriek and joined his dead comrades on the ground.

Tauriel threw a look over her shoulder and saw a flicker of silver-blond hair amidst the mass of black armour and grey fur. Legolas was still stabbing his way through the chaos, graceful and deadly as always. They were keeping their promise to watch over each other, although Tauriel did not know for how long it would last. Relieved, she turned around to face another attacker who was just about to deliver a sword-blow to her back.

In the middle of all the infernal roaring and screaming, an even louder uproar made her raise her eyes to the great gate. She could not make out any details, but she became aware of a huge avalanche of stones that came rolling down the mountain and buried a substantial number of Orcs. Before she could look out for the cause of the strange landslide, she heard a rough voice shouting something in Khuzdul.

All heads in the valley turned towards the mountain and for a moment the spectacle up there interrupted the fighting. The company of Thorin Oakenshield emerged from their stronghold. They were clad in dwarven armour, wielded heavy weapons and thrust themselves into the battle like the embodiment of rage. The sight of the Dwarves seemed to renew the courage of their companions and many Men and Eldar came to their aid.

Tauriel herself pierced the chest of a still confused Orc before she attempted to follow her comrades towards the great gate. Her way was blocked by a Warg that jumped towards her, gritted its yellow teeth and threw her on the muddy ground. Tauriel thrust her dagger upwards, but it was too late. The beast would have buried its fangs in her throat if it had not been for a Dwarf of the Iron Hills, wielding his axe and roaring like the wild boar on whose back he had arrived, who beheaded the creature with one powerful strike. Tauriel gave him a nod, which he returned, before their ways separated again.

Just when she wanted to get back on her feet, she saw a shadow above her head. Cruelly enough, there was sufficient time for her to realise that it was a crudely forged battle-axe, swung by a giant Orc in rusty, dark brown armour. Time seemed to slow down and Tauriel could observe the huge axe coming closer and closer without being able to move an inch. From the corner of her eyes she noticed something flying towards the creature's head, but before she could wonder what it was, she heard a strange dull sound and the world around her descended into blackness.


	26. Red Poppies

Vague noises, the smell of fire, flickers of light softened by closed eyelids. She felt her body – and it hurt. The headache was the most prominent of the various types of pain, followed closely by the stinging sensation in her left side.

Tauriel opened her eyes and closed them again immediately because the sudden impact of the bright daylight was too much to bear. Slowly she forced herself to give it another careful try.

A tent. Greyish-brown fabric above her head and on her right. What was on her left, she could not check without turning her head, but not even a thousand flaming Balrogs could have persuaded her to try that. She was lying on the ground, probably on a paillasse, wrapped in an ocean of blankets. At least she did not feel cold despite the frosty temperatures.

With every breath and every second that went by, the memories returned. Obviously the battle had not ended in the ultimate disaster she had expected, or else she would not be lying under warm blankets in a healing tent with a stiff neck brace and an itchy bandage around her ribcage. The last thing she remembered was a giant Orc about to behead her with an axe – how in the name of Eru she was still alive, she could not tell.

The next thought that crossed her mind and immediately overwhelmed her was the question if and in what state the people close to her had survived the massacre. Sidhril, Etheldir, Tuven, Glandir and of course Legolas were just the first few names she thought of. She wanted nothing more than to get up and find someone who could inform her about the recent events, but the pain that even the smallest movement inflicted on her quickly rendered that wish mute. So she stayed immobile and figured that at some point in the near future a healer would probably check on her.

She was right. Barely half an hour passed until the sound of approaching footsteps announced a visitor. Even before he stepped into her field of vision, Tauriel recognised Amril by the unmistakable sharp smell of alcohol that always clung to his hands and clothes when he was working. It came from a tincture he had invented. He claimed that it kept the tiniest pieces of dirt off his hands, which would otherwise intrude the patients' bodies and slow down their recovery. The other healers refused to try the substance because they thought it was superstition, but Amril insisted on using it.

When he came in sight, Tauriel managed something like a smile. "Look who's awake," she was greeted by her brother. "Welcome back to the world of the living!"

"Thank you," she replied, noticing that her throat was as dry as parchment. "How long have I been… absent?"

"Four days," Amril explained while kneeling down beside her. "You were hit badly on the head and I thought it best to give you something to sleep through the worst pain."

She made an effort to keep her smile up a little longer. "I appreciate it. But can you please summarise the past four days for me? What changed the course of the battle, I mean, why is any of us even alive? How high are our losses? What about Legolas and Sidhril and…?"

Amril raised a hand and interrupted her, "There's no need to worry, none of your friends fell. I'll tell you everything I know in a minute, but first I'd like to take a look at those two broken ribs. If I may?"

Tauriel shrugged, more precisely, she tried to out of a reflex, but regretted it immediately. At least Amril's words had reassured her for the moment, so she conceded ironically, "Be my guest."

He gave her a grin, relieved that she was feeling well enough to mock him. From one of his apron's numerous pockets he produced a little bottle and a spoon. "You may want to swallow some of this," he offered.

"What is it?" Tauriel inquired sceptically and tried to decipher the words scribbled on the bottle's label.

Amril held it closer to her face. "Poppy extract – against the pain, you know. It made you sleep these past four days."

"Don't bother," Tauriel refused, "I'm feeling dizzy enough as it is. Let's just get it over with."

Amril frowned, but he muttered something that sounded like "As you wish" and put the bottle back into his pocket. He began to peel off the several layers of fabric that covered the wound, starting with the two heavy blankets, then her tunic and finally the pieces of linen soaked in a sticky ointment, which were all but glued to her skin. Tauriel could not move her head enough to see what the wound looked like, but she remembered the strike that had caused it all too well.

Amril examined it carefully and squeezed a little to see if the bones were in place. A stinging pain shot through half Tauriel's body and made her take in a sharp breath. "Do that again and I'll punch you!" she hissed.

Amril only raised an eyebrow and retaliated, "I would like to see you try."

Frustrated, Tauriel regretted not accepting the poppy extract, but it was too late now, so she simply rolled her eyes and gritted her teeth, hoping that it would be over soon. "How come Nimiel's hands have the ability to soothe pain while yours inflict it?" she grumbled under her breath, earning herself a glare and a slightly offended mutter.

"That may be because she's almost six thousand years ahead of me…"

When Amril had tortured her broken ribs sufficiently and applied enough burning ointment to the wound above them, Tauriel tried again, "So, what happened? What was it that changed our luck?"

"We gained some unexpected allies," he explained. "The Great Eagles and Beorn, the skin-changer, joined the battle. From then on it did not take long until everything was over. After Beorn slew the leader of the Orcs, the rest of them turned into an unorganised mess. Some of them fled, the rest were killed. Most of the Wargs had had enough by then and escaped as well."

Tauriel listened to him in astonishment. "If only I had held on a little longer," she sighed, but Amril shook his head and corrected her.

"You should better thank every Vala that you're alive at all. The axe that fell on your head could have split a Troll's skull, if Legolas wasn't exaggerating…"

"Wait a moment," Tauriel stopped him, "it fell on my head? I clearly remember the Orc raising it above me… Yes, why didn't it decapitate me? And what does Legolas have to do with anything?"

"He shot the Orc in the very last second," Amril pointed out. "So the strike went a little astray, just enough to save your life. Seriously, Tauriel, you have so much more luck than judgement! Legolas then dragged you off the battlefield and brought you to us."

Amril chattered on a little more, but his words did not reach Tauriel's mind in that moment. She was slowly realising how closely she had escaped death and suddenly she felt the overwhelming urge to talk to Legolas. "Is he still here?" she asked Amril, who needed a second to understand to whom she was referring.

When he had figured it out, he shook his head. "No, he departed yesterday with the king and most of the Guard. In fact, he wanted to stay until you woke up, but his father… convinced him otherwise. I spent about half an hour assuring him that you were in no more danger and that he could leave without having to worry."

Tauriel involuntarily returned the smile on Amril's face, but she stopped when she suddenly remembered what had happened between her and Legolas right before the battle. Granted, she should not ascribe too much importance to it, given their confusion in the face of an uncertain fate, but nevertheless the thought of returning to Greenwood did not gain a lot of appeal after sharing a kiss with the betrothed prince.

"What about Sidhril?" Tauriel changed the subject in the interest of her own peace of mind.

Amril grinned and gave back, "No more damage than a broken dagger. Before she had to leave, she spent every spare minute by your side, telling you stories, until the other patients started complaining. I had to throw her out when she threatened an injured Border Guard recruit."

Tauriel wanted to chuckle, but the pain in her side prevented it. "Such a sweetheart, isn't she?" she stated as seriously as she could. "A broken dagger, you say? I've been recommending her to get rid of those strange hunting knives of hers for centuries. It's high time we work out some stricter standards for the Guard's weapons…" She stopped, biting her lip. "Oh, I almost forgot that's none of my business anymore," she mumbled bitterly, "but I may drop a discreet hint to Etheldir." Amril's expression became rigid for an instant before turning into an uncomfortable frown.

"What?" Tauriel asked. "Is anything wrong with Etheldir? You said none of my friends fell."

"He isn't dead," Amril uttered hesitantly, twisting his apron between his fingers, "it's just, well… He was buried under a Warg's cadaver that crushed his legs. Most likely he'll never walk again."

The words refused to make sense in Tauriel's head. It would never have occurred to her that solid as rock Etheldir could be harmed by anything. There was nothing she could say about such a dreadful misfortune. She had seen Men and Dwarves who could not walk, mostly old ones, and they seemed to bear it admirably with the help of cleverly thought out equipment. But for an Elda a mutilation like this was considered the peak of misery. It typically meant that their soul would eventually refuse to live in this world and go to Mandos willingly.

"Is he still here?" Tauriel inquired quietly.

"No, he was strong enough to be taken home," Amril informed her. "Naneth will do all she can for him, but I think not even she can cure him." There was a long pause after that, during which Tauriel tried to wrap her mind around the news.

Finally another question arose. "What happened to Thorin Oakenshield and his company? Has he been proclaimed King under the Mountain yet?"

Amril let out a deep breath and Tauriel already sensed that his answer would not be pleasant. "Thorin fell," he stated. "Even our king was at the funeral and paid his respects. Dáin Ironfoot claimed the throne of Erebor in Thorin's stead."

Tauriel gulped and did not even dare ask her next question, but she needed to know. "The other twelve Dwarves – do you know anything about their fate?"

"I heard that Thorin's nephews died defending him," Amril said, obviously unaware of the effect his words would have on Tauriel. She made an effort to maintain her composure, but it was almost impossible because a part of her had anticipated and dreaded this news since she had said goodbye to the Dwarves at the camp limits.

Fíli and Kíli, the two inseparable brothers – Tauriel remembered Kíli's story about his mother and the talisman she had given to him. Now neither of her sons would return to her and she would have to mourn her brother as well. All of a sudden Tauriel felt an overwhelming sympathy for that Dwarf woman somewhere far away in Ered Luin whom she had never met. And of course she remembered Kíli's mischievous grin, his insolent jokes, his naïve wisdom and his genuine friendliness, and her stomach cramped at the thought of him lying in a dark grave under tons and tons of cold rock.

She glanced at Amril, who was assessing her worriedly, and asked him, "Are we done with the treatment for now? I would be very grateful if you could give me a minute or two to myself."

* * *

><p>"I have to say, Your Majesty, your forest is a rather unconventional sight to behold," the Hobbit chattered in all earnestness, glancing up at Thranduil on the back of his elk. The halfling had to bend his neck quite a lot, as Legolas observed with a smirk, because the pony he was riding was not even half the height of the king's mount.<p>

Next to the Hobbit there was Mithrandir on his horse, calm and jolly as most of the time. Presently the prince found him to be the most agreeable of his travelling companions because the Hobbit tended to be overly chatty from time to time and the king coped with that fact by not saying more than he absolutely had to.

As for the fifth member of the party, the shape-shifter named Beorn, Legolas could not decide whether to like him or be scared of him. He had lived close by for a while and the Eldar had been aware of his existence, but they had never sought direct contact with him or vice versa. He was currently in his Man shape, thank Eru, and was humming a song to himself. However, after seeing his wrath in battle, Legolas hoped that his good mood would last.

The Woodland host had left Erebor six days ago and was slowly approaching Greenwood. The wizard, the halfling and the shape-shifter had announced that they would leave the Eldar at the edge of the forest, so their ways would part very soon. Legolas could not help but notice how glad his father was about that prospect.

"Indeed Greenwood the Great holds many adversities for those who enter it in ignorance," Thranduil pointed out in a tone as dry as desert sand before fixing his eyes on the road again.

The Hobbit did not seem to get the hint and continued, "I understand you are quite… ancient, even by elvish standards. Were you born in Mirkwood, if I may ask?" Legolas cringed internally.

"I was not," came Thranduil's stoic reply.

Legolas exchanged a glance of mutual understanding with Mithrandir, who came to the rescue by explaining, "My dear Bilbo, King Thranduil was born in the elven realm of Doriath in the far West. He settled in Greenwood when his father, Lord Oropher, claimed lordship over the Silvan Elves."

"Ah, I see," the Hobbit answered and nodded gravely, side-eyeing the king. "Tell me if my questions are inappropriate," he went on and Legolas was almost sure the next question would be very much so, "I've always wondered about elven lines of succession to the throne." He looked at Thranduil, then at Legolas. "I mean, your kings don't normally die, do they? Theoretically, there could be generations of crown princes accumulating until…, you know…" A movement of his head indicated the presumed rest of the statement.

Mithrandir's moustache started twitching and Legolas glanced at his father worriedly. The king took a very deep breath, turned to the Hobbit and said with unsettling patience, "Well, Master Baggins, in Lord Oropher's case it was as simple as three Orcs ripping off his limbs and his head with their claws and teeth."

"He died a heroic death on the battlefield of Dagorlad," Legolas quickly interjected on seeing the Hobbit's face turn pale. He glared at his father, who only gave him an annoyed look, mingled with a nearly invisible smirk, and turned away again.

"So, Prince Legolas," Bilbo changed the subject after regaining control of his expression, "how is your friend?"

"Which one are you referring to?" Legolas asked back, dreading the direction this conversation was taking.

"The red-haired lady you were conversing with in the tent right before the battle," the Hobbit explained, making Legolas want to vanish in a cloud of smoke.

He avoided looking at his father and replied shortly, "The healers assured me that she would recover soon."

"Thank goodness!" Bilbo exclaimed. "I could tell how worried you were about her, especially after seeing how close your friendship was back in the palace. She is your Chief of Guards, am I right?"

"Uhm…" was all Legolas could utter while being trapped between the inquisitive Hobbit and his silent but always attentive father. Why could that blasted Istar not say something to silence his halfling? He had brought him, after all!

"Tauriel used to be the Captain of the Woodland Guard," he finally managed to explain in the detached voice he reserved for official occasions. "What will happen to her now depends largely on the state of her health." Strictly speaking, that was not a lie.

As the forest came closer, a familiar heaviness befell the air and the dark shadows seemed to stretch and reach forward from under the trees. Legolas was almost glad to be welcomed by that bizarre and ghostly spectacle, whereas he could see the Hobbit's growing distress. He was shifting uncomfortably in the saddle and made his pony walk more and more slowly the nearer they came to the tree line.

When even the shape-shifter started to glare ahead warily, Mithrandir decided that it was time to go separate ways. The company halted and Thranduil, Legolas, the wizard and the Hobbit got off their mounts.

"King Thranduil, farewell! Merry be the Greenwood while the world is yet young. And merry be all your folk. May the blessing of the Valar protect your realm from evil until our paths cross again," Mithrandir said, honouring the king with a gesture of respect.

Thranduil bowed his head and replied, "Farewell, Mithrandir! May you ever appear where you are most needed and least expected. The oftener you appear in my halls, the better I shall be pleased – but preferably without bearing bad news, just for once." The two of them exchanged a frown, which almost immediately turned into a mutual ironic smirk, followed by a friendly embrace.

After that the Istar turned to Legolas, put his hand on his shoulder and stated, "My dear Legolas, it has been an honour to fight with you. You have grown into a fine warrior and a most admirable prince. Your people could wish for none better."

As much as Legolas tried, he could not stop his cheeks from blushing. "The honour was all mine, Mithrandir," he replied, "and despite the circumstances it was a pleasure seeing you once more."

Mithrandir gave him a benevolent smile and added quietly, "May the same courage that you showed in the face of the enemy help you find the path that is right for you, however rocky the road may appear at times." Without leaving Legolas enough time to wonder about his enigmatic wishes, the wizard turned back towards his horse.

Master Baggins, however, was not yet ready to leave. After taking a few very deep breaths he planted himself in front of Thranduil, hands trembling, and addressed him in a shaky voice, "I beg of you to accept this gift." He fiddled around in his pocket and produced a necklace of pearls set in silver, which he handed to an astonished Thranduil.

"In what way have I earned such a gift?" the king inquired, making poor Bilbo even more nervous.

"Well, I thought," he stammered, "that some little return should be made for your… hospitality." He peeked up at Thranduil with a guilty face and when the king did not react, he went on hesitantly, "I mean, even a burglar has his feelings. I have drunk much of your wine and eaten much of your bread."

Once again Legolas argued with himself whether he should enlighten old Galion about the true nature of the food-stealing ghost or not. Thranduil, however, put on his most royal expression and conceded graciously, "I will take your gift, Bilbo the Magnificent. And I name you Elf-friend and blessed. May your shadow never grow less!" And with an arched eyebrow he added, "Or stealing would be too easy."

When at last everyone, including Beorn, had said their farewells, the three travellers turned north while the elven host continued their way into the forest. After the horrors of the battle even the dark paths of Greenwood provided some homely comfort to Legolas. He let his thoughts wander off and naturally they ended up with Tauriel once more. He wondered if she had already woken up. How much would he have liked to stay with her, but of course the duties of a prince did not ask about personal wishes.

Legolas forced himself not to relive the terrible moment when he had seen the Orc's axe above Tauriel's head. He would go through a lot more nightmares about the battle anyway and Tauriel's supposed death always played a prominent role in them.

But even if he ignored that particular memory, there were still enough others to ponder. How, by the Valar, would he deal with the fact that he had actually kissed her before the battle? He knew he should blame it on the exceptionally stressful situation. He was betrothed to Gelinnas, for Eru's sake! And he was looking forward to seeing her soon – of course, very much so, as he desperately tried to make himself believe.

His efforts did not pay off very well. Given the choice between riding home to be reunited with his betrothed and waiting at Tauriel's bedside until she came back to the world of the living, he would not have hesitated one second to choose the latter. He definitely needed to figure out what to do about this dilemma, and he needed to do it quickly.

"Ion nín, what is on your mind?" his father's voice broke his contemplations. Thranduil glanced at him curiously, undoubtedly guessing where Legolas' thoughts were lingering.

The prince resolved that there was no point in denying the obvious and replied, "I was thinking about Tauriel. I do hope she'll recover quickly."

The king pursed his lips for an instant, but he seemed to welcome the topic his son had proposed. "Speaking of Tauriel," he started, making sure to keep his voice down, so that the soldiers around them would not understand every word, "there is something I wish to discuss with you."

"Is that so?" Legolas gave back hesitantly, unsure what to expect.

The king nodded. "Indeed. As you are aware, we are currently facing an extraordinary loss of captains. I have been pondering the question of a suitable successor for a while, but no convincing candidate came to my mind."

"What about Lieutenant Alation?" Legolas suggested, trying to contribute something to the conversation despite his own very different concerns.

The king shook his head. "Alation is far too decent a fellow to present and adequate counterpart to the growing evil in the forest." Legolas could not suppress his frown. Since when did the king favour unconventional methods, such as Tauriel's, over Alation's honourable and dutiful attitude?

"No, in fact, I have made a decision that may surprise you greatly," Thranduil pointed out with a nearly inaudible hint of insecurity in his voice.

Legolas tilted his head. "Will you share your decision with me?" he asked.

The king replied, "I have resolved that it is best to trust the captain's duties to Tauriel again as soon as she returns, until a suitable successor is found."

Legolas' jaw almost dropped, but he refrained from any comment. "She does not deserve it in the slightest," Thranduil elaborated and if Legolas had not known better, he might have sworn that the great King of the Woodland Realm was trying to justify a decision that embarrassed him. "Tauriel has defied my orders in the most insolent manner, but unfortunately I have no better candidate at hand than her and I need to set my personal concerns aside in the best interest of the realm's safety."

'I can see how much you're setting your personal concerns aside right now,' Legolas stated to himself and struggled not to start grinning. It was far too obvious that Thranduil was looking for an elegant excuse to keep Tauriel in his service while also maintaining his dignity. The prince knew that his father trusted her like no other officer – and so did the soldiers, for what it was worth. Who else would they have followed to the suicidal mission that had opened the battle? If Legolas thought about it thoroughly, Thranduil's decision to throw Tauriel into that risky endeavour had been the highest honour she could have received from him – in a rather twisted way of course.

Forcing his face to stay straight, Legolas replied casually, "It is probably the wisest decision under the current circumstances." Thranduil glanced at him and for a moment both of them knew they were playing the same game, but none of them was willing or felt the need to reveal their cards.

"The matter is settled then," Thranduil muttered while urging his elk to walk faster. After a short pause he looked Legolas straight in the eyes and hissed, "Just to be clear: She is but on probation and it will be your task to make sure she stays in line this time!" Legolas gave him a reassuring nod and held his horse back to stay behind for one more moment. Finally he could allow the long-suppressed smile to spread over his face.

* * *

><p>The throne room in the Halls of Erebor was as gigantic and terrifying as Tauriel remembered it from the last time she had entered it. The enormous pillars that still seemed far too fragile to carry the weight of a whole mountain, the ghostly echoes and inexplicable flickers of light in the darkness, the foul draughts from the very depths of the earth – everything made her want to run away as fast and as far as she could, but there was something more important to be done first.<p>

Dáin Ironfoot was sitting on his throne, flanked by two Dwarves in heavy armour and staring warily at the elven visitor. Tauriel gulped involuntarily – and it was not because of the pain in her side or the dizziness that still overcame her after walking long distances, probably enhanced by the poppy extract she still depended on to be able to move at all. She exchanged a look with Bofur and Óin. The latter gave her a reassuring nod, so she forced her voice to obey her will and addressed the Dwarf lord, "Hail Dáin Ironfoot, King under the Mountain! I am Tauriel of the Woodland Realm and I have come to request your permission to visit the graves of Thorin Oakenshield and his nephews."

Dáin frowned and assessed her sceptically. "She was a friend of Kíli's," Bofur interjected. "She saved his life. Several times, in fact."

The Dwarf king muttered something into his beard before he replied to Bofur without looking at Tauriel, "As I see it, she failed to save it when it was necessary. Permission denied!"

Tauriel almost gasped in shock. She opened her mouth, but Óin was faster and objected, "But Dáin, consider, she killed a pack of Orcs that would have slaughtered us while we were in Laketown, and after the dragon's attack we spent enough time with her to learn that she's trustworthy."

"Just let her say goodbye to them!" Bofur added, but the king cut them short with a wave of his hand.

"The funeral was eight days ago and there were far too many Elves as it was. If she didn't show up then, it's too late now."

"Excuse me!" Tauriel gave back a little more passionately than she should have. "I happened to be unconscious, recovering from an injury I received during the very battle that placed you on that throne up there!" The moment she heard her own words, she already regretted her unwise boldness, but she could not help it in the face of so much dwarven self-righteousness.

Óin discreetly grasped her arm and signalled her to calm down. "Don't be so stubborn, laddie," the old Dwarf tried again. "This isn't the time to hold grudges. All she wants is to bid a friend farewell, put some… plants, or whatever it is, on his tomb and leave."

Dáin shook his head, side-eyeing the three little bunches of sage and rosemary in Tauriel's hand. "She can bid him farewell from outside for all I care. Bad enough I had to let the Elf king into the sacred halls of our forefathers. I'm not going to let just any blasted Elf…"

"You know what, fine!" Tauriel exclaimed, fuming with rage. "I'm not going to waste any more of your precious time. I thank you for your hospitality, King under the Mountain." She all but spat the words at him and without any more delay, she turned on her heels and left, followed by Óin and Bofur.

She did not turn around until she could see the sunlight again outside the fortress. The two Dwarves looked very uncomfortable. "Sorry for that," Bofur apologised. "He's a grumpy fellow, but maybe we can convince him…"

"Don't bother," Tauriel interrupted him, "I know you mean well, but I've heard enough." She leaned against a large rock and let out a deep breath. Suddenly she felt incredibly tired.

After a while of silence she turned to the Dwarves again and handed the herb bunches to Óin. "Will you go in for me and put these on their graves? It's a sign of respect and loving memory, nothing more."

"Of course," Óin agreed and Bofur nodded eagerly. Tauriel felt a single tear run down her cheek, not knowing if it was out of grief, anger, exhaustion or all at once. She wiped it away, trying to suppress the ones that wanted to follow.

The Dwarves looked at her cluelessly. They had most likely never seen an Elf cry. Tauriel decided not to put then through that awkward situation longer than necessary. "Thank you," she said with a forced smile, "and goodbye. May the Valar bless you." She did not wait for their answer and started her way back to the remains of the elven camp.

* * *

><p>Amril had not approved of Tauriel's wish to make a detour to the huts by the lake that sheltered the people of Esgaroth, but he knew his sister well enough to save himself the trouble of trying to talk her out of it. After the rest of the elven host had left Erebor long ago, the healers had finally cured all of the more gravely injured soldiers well enough to travel home. The tents were packed up, the ones who could ride were sitting on their horses while the others had been placed on wooden wagons, and the party had started their slow journey.<p>

Tauriel promised Amril not to take too long and directed her horse away from her comrades towards the provisional settlement. There were fires burning in front of some huts and she could see several small boats on the lake. People were busy doing their chores and everything looked reassuringly normal, as if the Lakemen were slowly starting to recover from the catastrophe.

The hut Tauriel was going to visit had a new straw roof and there was a string decorated with shells hanging above the doorframe. A clothesline full of nearly frozen laundry blocked Tauriel's sight, but when she dismounted her horse, she could already hear someone approaching.

"Does this place look as if we could buy anything?" the annoyed voice of Bard's eldest daughter Sigrid came from behind the drying bed sheets. "Go away and try your luck elsewhere!"

Tauriel grinned and gave back, "I must be in terrible shape if I look like a pedlar to you." There was a short silence until Sigrid emerged from between her laundry, eyes widened in surprise.

"Tauriel, how nice to see you recovered!" she greeted the guest. "I'm sorry, I was expecting yet another merchant. Since the news of the dragon's treasure has spread, people from all the neighbouring towns come here and try to sell us things." Sigrid rolled her eyes and set down the basket full of firewood she was carrying. "Are you leaving?" she asked. "We heard the elven camp was gone."

"Yes, we're going home," Tauriel affirmed. "I came to say goodbye."

Sigrid gave her a smile and offered, "Will you come inside for a moment? Father isn't home, but Bain and Tilda are and I could make you a cup of hot tea…"

Tauriel shook her head and declined, "I'm afraid I have no time to spare. I just wanted to make sure you were doing all right." She looked around while Sigrid nodded.

"We are. These huts will help us through the winter and when spring comes, Father says we're going to move to Dale and start rebuilding it. The Dwarves of Erebor promised us their help."

'I wouldn't waste too much hope on that,' Tauriel thought bitterly. Her memories of the encounter with Dáin Ironfoot stirred other, more painful ones inside her and for a moment she allowed the image of poor Kíli to resurge from the depths of her mind. But no, it was not the time to get carried away, she reminded herself, so she kept her mouth shut about the helpfulness of the Dwarves and managed a smile.

Sigrid signalled her to wait and turned towards the hut. "Bain, Tilda, come out here!" she shouted in a tone that would have put many a commander of the Woodland Guard to shame. Tauriel smirked, suspecting that Sigrid ruled her household with an iron fist.

The two younger children took their time to fulfil their sister's request, but finally their footsteps could be heard. "I've already chopped the wood!" Bain protested before he became aware of the unexpected visitor. He stopped and opened his mouth to greet her, but Tilda ran right past him and flung her arms around Tauriel.

"I knew you wouldn't forget us!" she exclaimed.

Tauriel replied, "Of course not. I would never leave without saying goodbye to you."

"Tilda has been going on and on about you," Bain explained with a slightly exhausted half-grin.

The little girl gave Tauriel her brightest smile and stated, "When I grow up, I want to become a warrior, just like you."

"Nonsense, Tilda!" Bain objected and gave his little sister an affectionate elbow nudge. "Girls don't become warriors."

Tauriel raised an eyebrow and answered as seriously as she could, "My mother used to say the same thing to me." At that Bain fell silent and his cheeks turned red, while both his sisters grinned at each other.

"I'm afraid I can't give you more than a few kind words as a parting gift," Tauriel eventually said, "but I wish you all the best and I hope we'll see each other again some time." She gave all three of them a hug and then, as much as she wanted to stay, she already had to mount her horse again and leave them.

* * *

><p>The thick air and the whispering shadows welcomed Tauriel to Greenwood in their usual threatening manner, but every danger provided a distraction from her own gloomy thoughts. She did not know what to expect on returning to the palace, be it in terms of her position in the Guard or with regards to more personal questions.<p>

The journey with the wounded soldiers had taken twice as long as it would with a usual company and Tauriel could not deny how glad she was when they were finally approaching their destination. Her broken ribs had healed rather well and her neck did not hurt as badly as it had some time ago, but still, even despite the poppy extract, riding all the way from Erebor to the palace had not been an enjoyable experience.

The company had first encountered a unit of the Border Guard and after that of the Forest Guard. All those soldiers had greeted Tauriel with respect, but she took it as a sign of personal loyalty rather than duty. She was quite anxious to find out who had taken over command after Etheldir, despite the fact that she did not even expect to be part of the Guard at all anymore.

Amril was riding next to her and telling her a story about one of the wounded soldiers. Out of politeness Tauriel gave him a "Yes, certainly!" or an "Oh, indeed?" from time to time, but she was not really sure what he was talking about.

Finally they passed the main gate of the palace and the familiar sight of the courtyard almost made Tauriel choke. She experienced the minutes that followed through a veil of blurriness – that blasted poppy extract was slowing down her mind, or maybe it was the sheer amount of encounters and impressions. Nimiel came out of the healing quarters and almost crushed her in her embrace despite her broken ribs, Sidhril stormed towards her in half-open armour, chatting her up happily and threatening once again to make her life hell as soon as she would be fully recovered, and Amril tried to coordinate the chaos of healers and wounded soldiers.

At some point Tauriel managed to escape. She simply felt unable to deal with all of it for the moment and after providing some help to the healers she went straight to the Guard's quarters and sought refuge in her chamber. At least all her things and the rest of her weapons were still there, but that did not necessarily mean anything.

Tauriel changed her dirty clothes and then sat down on the bed, staring at the opposite wall. She needed a moment to gather her thoughts before facing the king – if he was even willing to grace her with his attention. Officially it was him who had to dismiss a former captain in person, but Tauriel did not count on it.

Suddenly a knock at the door ripped her out of her contemplations. She got up, heard herself call "Enter!" and could not have been more astonished to see Lady Gelinnas step into the room.

"Welcome home, Tauriel," the visitor greeted her shyly and closed the door behind herself.

"Uhm… Thank you," was all Tauriel could utter. "Please, come in and… have a seat."

Gelinnas followed the invitation and sat on the only chair in the room while Tauriel was racking her brains trying to figure out what that visit might be about. She did not believe that Legolas had told Gelinnas about the incident before the battle. After all it had just been due to the general confusion.

"I'm glad to see you so well recovered," Gelinnas started a little awkwardly and Tauriel forced her face to smile politely.

"Thank you," she repeated. "What is it that brings you here, if I may ask?"

The young lady gulped heavily and took two deep breaths. Then she looked straight into Tauriel's face and stated, "I came to bid you farewell. I am leaving the Woodland Palace for good tomorrow at dawn."

All the Balrogs of Morgoth could not have unsettled Tauriel as much as this statement. She had to blink and repeat the words in her head in order to comprehend them. "What? I mean, why? What about your betrothal?" she stuttered, unable to express herself coherently.

Gelinnas bit her lip and after another deep breath she explained, "Legolas and I broke our betrothal in mutual agreement a week ago."

Now Tauriel had no choice but to sit down again. She did not reply, instead she simply stared at Gelinnas, waiting for further explanation. The lady seemed to be suffering agonies at least as bad as Tauriel's. She took her time, but eventually she went on, "When he returned, he came to me and told me that he could not marry me. I should have been devastated, but the truth was that I had already resolved not to marry him either."

"But why?" Tauriel managed to utter cluelessly.

"Because I am a hopelessly delusional romantic who wants to spend her life with someone who loves her back," Gelinnas suddenly blurted. "I may be a naïve young girl, but I recognise a taken heart when I see one. He would not have left everything and everyone behind to follow me to an uncertain fate, would he? No matter what I did or how much I wished for it, I never had a chance against you to begin with."

Tauriel was speechless for at least ten different reasons. She felt as if Gelinnas' words had hit her over the head with twice the power of the Orc's axe. Fortunately the lady did not require an answer and continued, "So I told Legolas to stop lying to himself and to me and returned his ring to him. We're parting on good terms – well, as good as they can possibly be under these circumstances. The king was not too pleased, of course, but fortunately that's not my problem."

After a silence that lasted at least a hundred years Tauriel brought herself to whisper to the tips of her shoes, "I had no idea. You must hate me."

Gelinnas' face stayed perfectly neutral. "I do not," she tried to assure her quickly, but then her façade of poise suddenly broke and she admitted, "Oh, who am I trying to fool? Of course I hate you!" She grabbed a handful of her silken skirts and started twisting them violently. "I know none of this is your fault and you don't deserve my resentment in the slightest – and neither does Legolas, for that matter – but to be honest, I would love to claw your eyes out."

"I can't blame you," Tauriel responded rather stupidly, watching Gelinnas' hands relax again.

"Don't worry, I won't try," the young lady muttered bitterly. "I know that even in your current state I would probably not survive the attempt." Tauriel shrugged in silent agreement.

Gelinnas rose, smoothing down her skirt. Tauriel followed, unable to figure out how to behave. To her surprise Gelinnas came towards her and gave her a serious but not hostile look. "Love is not ours to command, I suppose," she mused. "I was not meant to be with Legolas, as much as I wished it. But life goes on and maybe I will soon understand what this is good for." She took her eyes off Tauriel and turned to the door. Before opening it, she looked back once more and hesitated, as if she was pondering whether to voice her next thought or not, but in the end she decided to do so. "I hope that someday you two will be able to resolve your issues, in whatever way that may be." Tauriel could see tears forming in the corners of her eyes when she opened the door and left without another word.

Tauriel stayed completely immobile until her body reminded her that it was time to breathe again. She sunk back on her bed and let her head fall on the pillow while the world around her started spinning, only this time she could not blame it on the poppies.


	27. Silver Badges

The Houses of Healing were unusually busy – no wonder, so shortly after the battle – when Tauriel slowly made her way through the corridors the morning after her return to the palace. Having arrived in the late evening hours and having received the unsettling news of the broken betrothal on top of her exhaustion, she had fallen asleep immediately after Lady Gelinnas' visit. Now she was finally going to oblige Nimiel, who had already insisted on checking her injuries the evening before.

A nurse led Tauriel into one of the treatment rooms, where the unmistakable smell of soapsuds and herbs welcomed her and evoked a wave of childhood memories. The nurse indicated her to sit down on a chair by the door and left to fetch the healer.

Tauriel did not have to wait longer than a few minutes until Nimiel entered the room, armed with a small wooden box full of fresh leaves and pieces of linen. Before they could even exchange as much as a "good morning", Amril burst through the door as well, carrying various bottles and looking confused.

"Oh, I didn't expect…" he started hesitantly, looking back and forth between his mother and sister. "I thought Tauriel was still my patient." He tried to sound indifferent, but Tauriel could clearly detect a hint of wounded pride in his voice.

Nimiel gave him a smile and answered, "You certainly did very well so far, but I am selfish enough to claim my share as well. After all, I have not seen Tauriel in all this time." She made her excuse sound ironic, although it was as clear as daylight that she was serious.

Amril frowned shortly. "I believe a certain consistency of treatment methods can only benefit the recovery," he pointed out.

'Here we go,' Tauriel thought and prepared herself for yet another one of Nimiel and Amril's competitions as to whose approach to healing was superior. Under different circumstances she would have leaned back in her chair and enjoyed the spectacle, but this time she needed to get out of the healing quarters as soon as possible because there were more than enough other tasks waiting for her. "Can we please skip the quarrelling?" she requested, gaining two slightly bewildered glances from the healers, who had all but forgotten about her presence.

"Very well," Amril conceded begrudgingly with a nod to Nimiel. "You were here before me, so she's all yours." Tauriel gave him an apologetic smile before he left the treatment room.

"So," Nimiel stated when he had closed the door, "let us do this properly now, shall we? I daresay your brother's obscure substances have poisoned your body long enough." She emptied her wooden box on the treatment table and signalled Tauriel to take off her tunic.

While obliging her mother's request, she protested for the sake of justice, "Amril's tinctures worked fantastically. They made everything heal and took away most of the pain…"

"He cooks the herbs until there is no life left in them and combines the most dubious chemical agents that do not belong together in nature!" Nimiel interjected, as if that was enough to prove her point. Tauriel shrugged and refrained from any further comments. Both of them were excellent healers, but they would probably never come to an agreement.

While examining Tauriel's ribs and the wound above them, Nimiel tried to distract her patient from the painful procedure by bringing up the topic that seemed to be number one on the Woodland Palace's gossip agenda. "Lady Gelinnas left this morning. Who would have thought it? She and Legolas seemed such a nice couple. I wonder what changed their minds."

She threw a short glance at Tauriel, who displayed a blank expression and lied, "I don't know. Maybe Legolas will tell me at some point." The truth was that she desperately wanted to see him, but at the same time she dreaded the meeting. What was she even supposed to say to him? She felt her cheeks flush and cursed herself, hoping that Nimiel would not notice.

Luckily the healer was currently engaged in a part of the treatment that required her full concentration – and would probably drive Amril's scientific mind insane if he had to witness it. Nimiel's hands were resting lightly on Tauriel's ribcage while she mumbled something melodic under her breath. Tauriel could only distinguish the name of the Valie Estë and a few more incoherent words, but soon she felt as if Nimiel's hands were soaking up all the pain and leaving a soothing feeling of warmth instead.

When she was done, Nimiel gave Tauriel an almost triumphant smile and asked, "Do you think you will need any dizzying poppy extract now?" Tauriel allowed her the victory and shook her head.

She readjusted her clothes, thanked Nimiel for her care and was ready to leave, when another thought crossed her mind, "Do you think I can visit Etheldir?"

Nimiel's lips tightened for a moment, but then she agreed, "Of course you can. Only… do not expect him to be quite the same person you remember." She said nothing more and Tauriel hesitated a few seconds, but ultimately she resolved to go through with her plan.

A nurse showed her where to find Etheldir and she knocked on the indicated door. Instead of someone telling her to enter, the door was opened for her after a while. "Good morning, Rochiriel," Tauriel greeted the elleth in front of her. It was Etheldir's wife and she looked quite pale and tired, despite the welcoming smile on her face.

Tauriel threw a glance into the room and saw that there were four beds, all occupied by soldiers. Rochiriel let her enter and her greetings were returned by all of them. Etheldir was sitting in the bed in the left corner of the room, holding a book in his hands and trying very hard to display a cheerful expression.

"Tauriel, it's good to see you," he welcomed her while signalling her to sit down on a chair next to his bed.

She gladly took the opportunity and muttered cluelessly, "Mellon nín, I will spare you all the stupid questions about how you are, but now I don't even know what to say to you."

"Thank you for that," he replied. "Actually you don't have to say anything, I'm glad you have come anyway. Things didn't go too well for you either, did they?"

"It wasn't that bad," she gave back, knowing that she was lying but feeling rather silly talking about her own injuries in his presence.

There was an awkward silence during which one of the other soldiers whispered very audibly to his neighbour, "Look at that, now we've got two captains in here."

"Three," the other one corrected him, "Rochiriel counts as one as well."

"Be quiet, Terchanar!" Etheldir's wife interrupted him firmly and to Tauriel she explained, "They shouldn't complain about my presence at all. It's true, I come here every day, but without me this room would be a terrible mess. None of them would bother tidying up from time to time."

Tauriel and Etheldir exchanged a meaningful glance while Terchanar rolled his eyes, got up very slowly and limped towards the door, muttering something along the lines of "You should see the Guard's quarters. It would give you a heart attack and then you would at least stop bothering us…"

When he was gone, Etheldir tried to calm his wife, "Don't mind him. Tauriel will teach him some manners as soon as he gets out of here."

"I will?" Tauriel asked in confusion. "Why would you say that?"

Etheldir shrugged and explained, "I don't know, it's just that the king hasn't appointed a new captain yet and everybody thinks…"

"Nonsense!" Tauriel interrupted him more rudely than intended. "I'm going to receive my dismissal today, that much is for sure." She regretted her outburst immediately, so she inquired more calmly, "Did the healers tell you how long you have to stay?"

Etheldir shook his head. "No, they only keep reminding me not to lose hope. But as much as your mother tortures me, we both know that my legs won't magically start working again. Wargs are heavy, you know." His smirk was all bitterness.

"We decided to sail west as soon as he's strong enough for the journey," Rochiriel stated quietly. At first Tauriel looked at her in shock, but then she resolved not to worsen the situation with any unqualified comments of hers.

They exchanged a few more meaningless niceties before Tauriel felt that it was time for her to go. She wished all the soldiers a quick recovery – in Etheldir's case it was more a gesture of courtesy than anything else – and left, feeling a big lump in her throat.

* * *

><p>The next item on her list of unpleasant encounters was the one that scared her most. The king's daily time for public audiences was almost over, but Tauriel knew she had to face him sooner or later, so she hurried to the throne room to get her chance to speak to him.<p>

When she arrived, there was only one more person waiting by the bridge that led to the throne. She exchanged a nod with the ellon whom she vaguely recognised as a silversmith working at the palace. The two guards standing on either side of the bridge eyed her curiously and she wanted nothing more than to dig a hole and vanish in it.

Finally another soldier accompanied the previous petitioner across the bridge and fetched the silversmith, leaving Tauriel as the last one in line. She waited for what felt like a century, carefully avoiding any glance at the two guards and studying the rock formations and petrified tree roots in the ample cave as thoroughly as she never had before.

Her stomach cramped when she saw the smith walking towards her, followed by the guard. What was she even afraid of? She knew what was waiting for her at the opposite end of the bridge and she had no one but herself to thank for it. She took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down. The guard – she recognised him but could not recall his name – seemed to hesitate a moment before he signalled her to follow him. How strange for him to lead his former captain to her dismissal, Tauriel thought.

She crossed the bridge, as she had done a thousand times before, and suddenly she was all calm and relaxed. This was it, the end of her career, but she did not feel anything. She fixed her eyes straight ahead on the armoured back of the guard, until he came to a stand and stepped aside.

Next to the throne there was Galion, standing immobile like a marble statue and holding a leather-bound notebook. He gave her a nod and a rather awkward smile. The king gazed down at Tauriel with his usual detached expression and it was impossible for her to read his face. She took a bow, then she straightened her posture, cleared her throat and addressed him, "My lord, I have come to inquire what is to become of me."

Thranduil took his time to react. At first he only continued staring at her, seemingly pondering a thought, but at some point he decided to grace her with his answer. "I expected you earlier." Tauriel rolled her eyes internally and forced herself to stay perfectly straight and silent, avoiding Galion's look.

"What do you think should become of you?" the king deemed it necessary to ask and Tauriel felt her annoyance growing. 'Just go ahead and discharge me already!' she thought.

To him she said as neutrally as she could, "I defied your orders, which means that I can no longer be part of the Guard, according to the law…"

"The law is nothing but words written in an ancient book," Thranduil interrupted her. "I am asking for your own thoughts on your actions. I gave you the position of a captain despite your lack of experience and your often demonstrated tendency to act upon intuition rather than logic. I watched your long struggle to adjust to your role, I even put up with your occasional insolence – all in the hope that you would prove to be worth the trouble." His reproachful tone did not match his pensive expression and against her will Tauriel started to get scared again.

Suddenly the king allowed a glimpse of warmth to spread over his face. "In fact you did," he stated almost contently. "You turned out to be an excellent captain whom I trusted to protect the lives of my people without thinking twice. Nevertheless you betrayed my trust and I would like to know what the people of the Woodland Realm and their king have done to you to deserve such betrayal."

Tauriel gulped heavily and fought a violent battle against herself. She would certainly not fall for the king's strategy of evoking guilt, although her first reflex was indeed to feel horrible about what she had done. She threw a quick glance at Galion and for some reason his stoic presence reassured her.

"My lord," she finally brought herself to answer, "I do not believe I betrayed the people of the Woodland Realm. I acted in the interest of their safety by following the Orcs instead of letting them get away unpunished after raiding our land." She observed the king's reaction; his face hardened slowly with every word she said. She could not deny that it alarmed her, but now it was too late to change her mind and she could as well continue.

"As for your disappointment in me, I am truly sorry. I never wished to offend you, but I could not go against my sense of justice simply to fulfil an order. The Dwarves and the Men of Esgaroth were defenceless and needed protection more than our people did. I do not regret my actions and I would do the same again."

There it was, she had said it. Now all she could do was to wait for the king's justified anger. She braced herself – but he did not seem inclined to show any reaction at all. He simply continued staring at her, as if to read her mind.

Tauriel bore it bravely for a long while. At some point, however, she felt she could not take it any longer and just when she opened her mouth, the king cut her short, "If that is the case, there is nothing more to say about the matter."

"Very well," Tauriel stated mechanically, her head completely empty. "May I take my leave of you then?"

She was already about to turn around, when the king held her back, "And where do you think you are going?" Tauriel stopped, bewildered and irritated. Why could he not just let her be instead of playing such cruel games with her? She faced him again, this time unable to control her expression.

The king produced something from his pocket and signalled her to come closer. She obeyed reluctantly, only to see that the object in question was her old silver badge. "You are back on duty, Captain," the king stated, leaving Tauriel speechless. She accepted the badge and stared at it for a moment, before Thranduil continued, "Moral integrity is not a trait to be punished. However, I will be watching you closely from now on. The slightest lapse and you will hand in your weapons for good. I do not care that you are still injured or that the Guard is in a desolately chaotic state right now – I expect maximum efficiency."

"Yes, my lord," Tauriel muttered, not even aware of what exactly she was agreeing to.

The king nodded and assumed his usual tone for giving orders. "The first thing you will do is to reorganise the watch in the forest and at the borders, according to the reduced number of available soldiers. You will also appoint a new lieutenant to the Forest Guard – I trust you have heard about Orchalon's decease?"

"What?" Tauriel could not stop herself from exclaiming. "I mean, no, I had not heard about it." Orchalon was dead – why had nobody thought it necessary to inform her? Was she really considered that irrelevant? Granted, her relationship with Orchalon had mostly been defined by disagreements and mutual grumbling, but after all they had worked closely together for centuries. Tauriel swallowed the new lump in her throat and assured the king, "I will see to it."

As there was nothing else to be discussed, he allowed her to take her leave. It was not until she had crossed the bridge and stepped out of the throne room that she fully realised what had just happened.

* * *

><p>Thranduil had been right, the Guard was indeed in desperate need of reorganising. Tauriel had summoned the three remaining lieutenants, who had not been surprised about her reappearance, and together they had improvised a new distribution of watchmen and shifts. When Tauriel finally left the office, it was already past noon and all the work that was still to be done did not even give her enough time to get tired. It was a familiar and reassuring feeling.<p>

As for the new leader of the Forest Guard, she had been through a heated discussion with the lieutenants and she thanked the Valar as well as Nimiel for not being under the influence of the poppy extract anymore. The candidate they had ultimately agreed on was the right choice according to every logical consideration. He had by far the best records, he had served in the Forest Guard for centuries and he was a born leader – and still Tauriel's eyes started rolling automatically at the thought of working with him on a daily basis again.

Nevertheless she walked to the main gate, clasping the little leather bag that contained the insignia for the new lieutenant, and looked out into the forest, because according to the schedule the unit in question should return any moment. And indeed, after only a few minutes she saw the soldiers approaching.

When Fiondir became aware of Tauriel and noticed that she was once again wearing the captain's badge, he threw her an approving look but did not say anything. Sidhril, on the other hand, immediately asked her a hundred questions at once.

"Yes, I'm back," Tauriel cut through the flood of words, grinning, "and I've been meaning to talk to you two." She gestured towards Sidhril and Fiondir. The corporal dismissed the other four members of his unit and waited until they had left before he planted himself in front of Tauriel and crossed his arms expectantly.

She assessed him for one more moment, but she could still not think of a justified argument that would save her the trouble. So she took a deep breath and asked him, "Fiondir, I've been wondering… Are you good at sewing?"

A dry "What?" was his predictable response.

Tauriel did not feel like explaining the plan, so she simply threw the leather bag to him and added, "I've got something for you to sew on your uniform."

He raised an eyebrow, apparently musing about the damage the Orc's axe had done to Tauriel's head, until he opened the bag and pulled out the insignia. Sidhril was the first one whose jaw dropped, whereas Fiondir only glanced at Tauriel sceptically. "What in Manwë's name is that supposed to mean?" he wanted to know.

"What does it look like? It's your new division, Lieutenant," she gave back, savouring the rare sight of his perplexed face. "Do me a favour and give me at least a few weeks until you make me regret this."

Fiondir scratched his head and looked back and forth between Tauriel and the insignia in his hand. He was visibly overwhelmed, but of course he tried to maintain his façade of superiority. Sidhril, however, was blinking nervously and did not look comfortable at all.

"As for you," Tauriel addressed her, "given that you're the most experienced member of the unit now, how would you like to become a corporal?"

Sidhril nodded somewhat absent-mindedly and gave back, "Sure, yes, why not…" Tauriel wondered at the strange reaction, but before she could even ask what was the matter, Sidhril muttered an unintelligible excuse about having to go to the armoury and scurried off.

Bewildered, Tauriel turned to Fiondir, whose eyes had followed Sidhril worriedly. "Do you have any idea what that was about?" she wanted to know.

He frowned and glanced in Sidhril's direction once more. "I do," he admitted reluctantly, but without making an attempt to enlighten her. After another moment of awkward silence he cleared his throat and asked quickly, "When do you expect me to report to you in my new function?"

"This evening after the Palace Guard's shift change would be convenient," Tauriel replied in confusion. "I need to give you a few important instructions…"

"Right, I'll see you then!" Fiondir assured her, graced her with a half-hearted salute and went after Sidhril without waiting for Tauriel to dismiss him.

She stared at his back until he had vanished in the Guard's quarters, wondering why it was suddenly him who was better informed about Sidhril's motives. 'I knew I would regret this!' she stated to herself, slowly shook her head and started her way to the Guard's quarters, but she had not even taken five steps when a familiar voice calling her name made her spin around.

* * *

><p>"Tauriel!" Legolas called and almost grinned when he saw her give a little start before she turned around. It had cost him a lot of courage to seek her out and, truth be told, he had no idea how to face her after everything that had happened, but the urge to see her, speak to her, now that she was finally back at the palace, had been stronger than his doubts.<p>

Tauriel bit her lip and smiled hesitantly. She looked as if she were torn between the exact same emotions that were troubling him. "Mellon nín," she addressed him and took a few steps towards him. He noticed that she was still moving rather stiffly and carefully.

"How are you feeling?" he inquired. "The last time I saw you, you were sound asleep and mumbled something about ants and raspberries."

At first Tauriel gave him a confused look, then she shrugged. "I had some strange dreams under the influence of Amril's soporifics. But I'm feeling much better now. By the way, thank you for… you know, saving my life."

Finally Legolas allowed himself to smile. "I promised to keep an eye on you," he simply replied.

They looked at each other in silence for a while, unsure what to say, until at last Tauriel stated, "Your father gave me back my rank, as you see. But you already knew about this, didn't you?"

"I did," Legolas admitted, grateful for the innocuous topic. "Actually he charged me with the honourable task of keeping you in line."

"Good luck with that!" it came back, along with the familiar smirk that would always remind him of the mischievous elfling she had once been.

"Am I right to assume that you just promoted Fiondir?" Legolas asked with a quirked eyebrow.

Tauriel frowned and deemed it necessary to justify her decision by stating, "Exactly – he may not be the easiest person to be around, but for the sake of fairness you have to allow that he's a good soldier."

"I never doubted that part," Legolas gave back, omitting the rest of the statement on purpose.

Tauriel shifted from one leg to the other and looked at the tips of her boots for a few seconds before she mentioned, "So, Gelinnas has left."

Legolas nodded – there it was, the inevitable subject. "Yes, she has," he replied, "she's returning to her family. As soon as she arrives, we will probably have one less trading partner and ally." He rolled his eyes to cover up the gnawing feeling of guilt that overcame him when thinking of the whole string of consequences his actions would bring along, and of course the pain he had caused Gelinnas.

Tauriel looked straight into his face and asked quietly, "Are you sure it's worth all of that? I mean, she told me about the reason for your separation."

Suddenly Legolas wanted to say a hundred things at once, but none of them seemed appropriate to be discussed in the middle of the courtyard. Without further ado he took Tauriel by the arm and directed her towards the Guard's quarters and into the captain's office.

When the door closed and he found himself alone with her in the gloomy little room, Legolas could finally let out everything he had been pondering over and over for the last weeks. "First of all, it was the right decision. Gelinnas and I would not have made each other happy. I made that choice for myself and I will not regret it, even if you… decide to stay out of the picture. I want you to know that I don't expect anything of you."

"Indeed you shouldn't!" Tauriel gave back, gracing him with a frown and crossing her arms.

It was more her gestures than her words that irritated him and made him ask, "Beg your pardon?"

She planted herself in front of him in her most confident captain's posture and pointed out dryly, "In my humble opinion you are quite right not to make any demands, after almost marrying someone else."

Legolas tilted his head involuntarily. "Excuse me?" he retaliated in the same tone. "At least I was not the one who allowed a Dwarf to court me!" He could see Tauriel's jaw clench – for almost any other person an unmistakable sign that it was time to start running. Legolas, however, stayed immobile and gazed at her stoically. He knew exactly that the equanimity he was displaying would drive her mad soon enough, but not even he would have expected the outburst that followed.

Tauriel threw her hands in the air and snapped, "Valar, give me patience! This isn't a contest of bad decisions – and even if it were, you would still win."

"Oh, would I?" Legolas spat back at her. Until a moment ago, all this had been a game, a little quarrel for the sake of amusement, but now he felt a glowing ball of anger growing in his chest. Who did she think she was to criticise him in this manner, as if she had never made the slightest mistake in her life? "So, when I try to live up to the position I was born in, when I do my duty towards my father and our realm, you are allowed to call me a fool, whereas you get to pass off your blatant disobedience to your king as an act of moral righteousness?" he barked, not even caring if there were people walking by who could hear him.

Tauriel opened her mouth and closed it again, her hands trembling with agitation. She shook her head, as if her words were too valuable to be wasted on his statement, but then she hissed a little helplessly, "That's a completely different point!"

"Actually it's not," Legolas objected, determined not to let her get away easily. "In fact it's always the same: I make a mistake, you reproach me with it forever and act as if I were the biggest moron of the Third Age. You make a mistake, I mention it casually, but of course then I'm wrong again because you had so many good reasons for doing what you did. You know what? I'm getting tired of this."

"Why – because Your Highness can't stand the idea of a common soldier contradicting you?" Tauriel shot back. "Why does your 'duty towards your father and the realm', as you put it, justify your actions, while my oath to protect my people does not? Is it because you happened to be born as a royal? Does that make your decisions superior to mine? You're getting tired of me – fine! Because I'm getting tired of your attitude as well!"

Legolas exhaled and rolled his eyes in exhaustion. "Are you going to make any useful point soon?" he asked, although he knew that his remark actually confirmed her reproach.

Tauriel scowled at him, but she did not answer. She seemed to ponder his question in earnest. Finally she resumed her defiant expression and yelled, "No! I guess not! I just… needed to get it out!"

Despite all his efforts, Legolas could not contain his laughter. Tauriel getting all worked up about something and then sticking with an argument just for the sake of arguing was one of his favourite sources of amusement and it made his anger vanish almost immediately.

"What?" she grumbled, already struggling not to start grinning herself, but still sounding furious.

Legolas regained control of his expression and looked at her for a moment before he simply answered, "I missed this."

Now Tauriel was clearly puzzled. "You missed arguing with me?"

"Yes," he confirmed, "strangely enough I did." And after another few seconds he added, "I missed everything about you."

"Well, that's your own fault, isn't it?" she muttered under her breath, but she did not sound too convinced anymore. She started twisting a strand of her hair between her fingers.

"Tauriel, I know that it's terribly inappropriate to talk to you like this, having still been betrothed a week ago," Legolas suddenly heard himself say. "It's also extremely unjust towards Gelinnas and I'm certainly coming across as some sort of scoundrel. Truth be told, I feel like one too, but I'll say it anyway. No matter how hard I try, I can't get you out of my heart – and I don't want to, unless you'll force me."

He did not even know what had got into him to say all these things, but it felt good to get them off his chest. Tauriel stared at him with wide eyes, still fiddling around with her hair, so Legolas figured that he could as well continue, "What happened in the tent before the battle was only the straw to break the Mûmak's back, if you know what I mean. Perhaps I was a fool to hope that you might feel the same way I do. So if you tell me now that it was all because of the strain and that you don't…"

Tauriel cut him short by waving her hands and shaking her head energetically. "Please just stop talking," she requested. She sat down at the table, only to get up again immediately and walk a few steps through the room. Legolas watched the spectacle, starting to hope that there was an actual chance for him.

Tauriel came to a stand in front of him, wringing her hands and clearly at a loss of words, but showing him a clueless smile, so he decided to abandon the subtlety and asked, "May I be so bold as to interpret this little pantomime in my favour?"

Tauriel rolled her eyes and let out a chuckle. "Yes, you may. Of course you may – what did you think?" However, after a short pause her face became serious again and she said, "We've been at this point before and you know how things turned out then."

Legolas breathed in deeply and took his time to reply. "I've been thinking about that too," he confirmed, "and as stupid as it might seem, I'm willing to risk it a second time. By now I'm past the point where I would care about anyone's opinion – at least in my father's eyes I've already messed up as badly as possible."

"Oh, right," Tauriel stated with concern, "I didn't even ask you how he reacted."

Legolas shook his head. "Believe me, you don't want to know. I don't think he can possibly get any angrier, even though I didn't even tell him that the whole story involved you. But of course I will never know unless he eventually starts talking to me again."

Tauriel bit her lip. "Well, we like walking on thin ice, don't we?" she stated with a forced smile.

Legolas could not help but ask, "Did you say 'we'?"

She gave him a half-grin and closed the distance between them. "Obviously, you idiot. I don't have more self-respect than that," she grumbled before adding more seriously, "Besides, going halfway to the Halls of Mandos taught me that even our lives can be too short to hesitate."

As if to prove her point, she came close to him and brushed her lips lightly against his. He put his arms around her, carefully, as though she could break, and it was not only because of her injury. "I'll remind you of these wise words when my father finds out about this," he teased her, but before she could protest, he silenced her with a kiss. Maybe there was such a thing as second chances.


	28. Golden Leaves

The morning was sunny but cold, so Tauriel did her best to bury herself in her cloak as deeply as she could. The shift change of the Palace Guard was just over and the king's audience time would not start for another hour, which meant for the captain that she could take a few minutes to breathe and eat the wrinkled apple that was her breakfast.

She took it out of her pocket while strolling across the courtyard in search of some sunbeams, pursing her lips at the sight of the fruit's shrivelled surface. In early spring the Woodland people rarely saw fresh fruit. Some were imported from Gondor, where it was said that winter only consisted of a little more rain than usually while it never got cold, but these expensive goods were reserved for the king's table. Once Legolas had given Tauriel a most extraordinary fruit with thick orange skin and a juicy, sour interior. She had tried it and wondered at the altogether unfamiliar taste, imagining the strange land where such fruit might grow. She smiled thoughtfully while taking a bite of the starchy apple.

There were not many people in the courtyard at this early morning hour. Tauriel enjoyed this time of the day, it was peaceful compared to the usual hustle and bustle. She had had a busy night – around midnight, when she had just retreated to her chamber after finishing a pile of paperwork, a soldier had knocked at her door and informed her that the Forest Guard, more precisely Sidhril's unit, had found two most suspicious trespassers, an Adan and a creature no one could identify.

There had been something utterly terrifying about that small, grotesquely deformed being, as if its very soul had been infested by evil. She had felt sorry for it, but at the same time she had been repulsed.

The Adan had surprised her with his ability to speak a flawless yet somewhat outlandish Sindarin and his claim to come at behest of the Istar Mithrandir to deliver the creature to King Thranduil – for safekeeping, as he had phrased it.

Tauriel had been unable to make sense of it all, so she had resolved to leave it up to the king. She had ordered the Palace Guard to imprison the two intruders until morning, just in case. She hoped to Eru that the Guard would not have to look after the terrifying creature for long and a shiver ran down her spine at the mere image of its enormous restless eyes and the memory of its raspy voice whispering madly to itself.

"Why so gloomy, meleth nín?" Legolas' voice interrupted her train of thought. She turned around to face him as he walked towards her with a somewhat studied smile. He looked tired himself, she noticed.

"Strange news," she gave back vaguely and shrugged, still chewing on her piece of apple. "What about you?"

Legolas shook his head and explained, "Nothing alarming, just my father being in a bad mood."

They exchanged a look of mutual understanding before Tauriel grinned and asked, "What did you do this time?"

Legolas gave her a look of pretended indignation and begged to differ, "I didn't do anything!" He checked if there was anyone else listening and continued quietly, "He received word from Lord Celeborn this morning. Apparently Lord Elrond is coming to Lothlórien to discuss certain… safety issues. Something evil seems to be festering in Mordor and it suspiciously resembles the shadow that has been poisoning our forest for so many centuries."

Tauriel frowned and felt cold all of a sudden, but it was not because of the icy temperatures. "So, is your father going to take any kind of action?" she asked carefully, already expecting a disappointing answer, based on past experience.

Legolas, however, stepped closer and stated under his breath, "Actually it looks like Lady Galadriel and Lord Elrond didn't even deem it necessary to include him because he always used to stay out of these matters. That's why he's quite upset right now. But Lord Celeborn decided to invite him in the last minute and I'm sure he intends to accept, although he just told me that he wouldn't be seen dead at their meeting now."

"Of course," Tauriel agreed and rolled her eyes with a sarcastic smirk.

Legolas returned it for a moment before he asked, "Do you want to tell me about your strange news as well?"

Over the unsettling subject of the emergency meeting she had almost forgotten her own concern. "Last night the Forest Guard captured an Adan near the lower river bent," she started. "He claims that Mithrandir sent him to bring us a… prisoner." "

A prisoner?" Legolas exclaimed in surprise.

"Or a guest, maybe. I'm not sure," Tauriel replied, biting her lip. "Please don't even ask me to describe that creature! You need to see it yourself. But I'm warning you, it's quite terrifying in the strangest possible way. No wonder Sidhril almost killed it the moment she saw it. But again, we all know how easily startled she gets these days."

Undoubtedly Legolas noticed the frown that flashed over Tauriel's face while mentioning Sidhril. His expression reflected his concern when he asked, "Is it still that bad with her?"

Tauriel nodded. "I'm afraid so. It has been sixty years since the Battle of Erebor, but it still seems to haunt her. She's incredibly irritable at times and she gets these strange panic attacks in the middle of perfectly normal situations. She looks like she hasn't had a good rest in decades – I think the nightmares won't leave her alone, but of course she doesn't admit that. She's also quite sick of me mentioning it, which I absolutely understand."

She let out an involuntary sigh and took another listless bite of her apple. "I see how much she's struggling not to let it affect her daily duties too badly. I feel so stupid and guilty for not noticing right away, or else I would never have given her that stupid promotion – I'm her best friend, for Eru's sake! Even Fiondir knew before me…"

Legolas took her hand and reminded her calmly, "That's because he used to spend every day with her on patrol, whereas you hardly saw her in the first weeks after the battle. Besides, she didn't want anyone to notice, especially not you, and she was quite convincing in making everyone believe that she was fine. When you offered to release her from duty or give her a position that didn't require fighting, she declined. What else was there for you to do? Sidhril isn't the type to accept help easily."

"You're probably right," Tauriel conceded, but she did not manage to sound convinced. "I suppose if I had forced her to give up her unit, it would have crushed the last bit of self-esteem she had left. A soldier isn't supposed to be defeated by her own mind, you know – and a soldier is all she has ever been."

"She doesn't make an altogether unhappy impression on me," Legolas stated a little weakly.

Tauriel had to agree with him on this point. "It's certainly getting better, however small the steps are. Let's just hope there won't be any more battles in the near future." She made an effort to smile, but it turned out as a grimace, given the unsettling news she had just received.

Legolas opened his mouth to say something reassuring, but he stopped, obviously at a loss of words as well. He stroked her cheek lightly and requested, "Let's worry about that when the time comes. Now will you introduce me to our mysterious guests?"

"Right," Tauriel agreed absent-mindedly after a few seconds. "I had them taken to the dungeons, to be on the safe side. Come along!" She did not wait for the remark to match Legolas' ironic smirk and set off in direction of the dungeons, hastily finishing her apple.

"You had to imprison the Adan, didn't you, Captain Overcautious?" Legolas mocked her on the way down. "We're on friendly terms with them, remember? Even more so if he's a friend of Mithrandir's."

"How am I supposed to know if he really is?" Tauriel snapped. "He certainly doesn't look trustworthy, all rugged and grim and dirty."

"Most Edain look like that," Legolas pointed out with painful accuracy, but Tauriel had another objection.

"He was armed to his teeth with the most extraordinary variety of weapons. Two of his knives were made in Imladris, one in Rohan and his bow even comes from Harad, if Alation was not mistaken." She could practically sense Legolas' grin, even though he was walking behind her, so she added, "You know what, I think it's you who is far too trusting towards strangers."

Legolas chuckled. "You sound like my father."

"Who is known for his wisdom," Tauriel finished his sentence, earning herself a poke in the back.

"Fine, so I'm a dewy-eyed princeling," Legolas played along, "otherwise I probably wouldn't enter these dark, secluded dungeons all alone with you, would I? Heavily armed and leery as you are."

"Are you afraid I'll assault you?" Tauriel asked.

He snorted and mumbled something that sounded like "Not necessarily afraid" before he stopped her by catching her arm and backed her up against the crude rock wall.

"Now who's assaulting whom?" Tauriel complained playfully, but she did not protest in the slightest when Legolas kissed her. They rarely got a moment to themselves, so she did not even mind the cold, uncomfortable rocks.

"I wish I could just abduct you right now," he whispered in her ear, letting his hands wander down her back, "to some place where there are no Edain, no mysterious creatures and especially no grumpy kings."

Tauriel noticed the hint of bitterness in his voice. "Did he recently say anything about us?" she asked carefully.

Legolas fixed his eyes on the rocks behind her for a second before he answered, "No, he still chooses to ignore it. I guess he takes it as some sort of juvenility and is still waiting for me to outgrow it. I'll have to talk to him again at some point, but I can certainly imagine more agreeable conversations." He gave her a weak smile and added, "You must be getting so tired of this. I'm sorry for having such a complicated family, even though it's only the one person. Maybe you should have chosen someone without a crown."

"Nonsense," Tauriel gave back, "I love you, despite your crown, your stilted manners and your snobby Sindarin accent." She brushed her fingers through his hair and kissed him again, knowing that he understood the serious statement behind her teasing.

Legolas smiled at her. "And I love you just for being you," he replied.

Tauriel would not have minded staying in the inhospitable rock tunnel with him for a good while, but unfortunately there were more pressing matters waiting to be dealt with. Quite reluctantly they brought themselves to continue their way to the dungeons.

The watchman let them in and informed them that the Adan had been waiting stoically in his cell since the change of guards, whereas the strange creature had not stopped muttering and sometimes yelling to itself. Tauriel saw the uneasiness in the soldier's face and she gave him a few reassuring words before she and Legolas made their way towards the cells.

First they passed the one with the unidentified being. Knowing what to expect did not make it easier to look at. The creature was crouching in the darkest corner of the cell, giving a start at the sight of the two Eldar. Tauriel exchanged a look with Legolas, whose expression had all but frozen.

"What in Eru's name…" he whispered and she could clearly see that he also felt the unmistakable air of evil surrounding and obviously torturing this creature.

Tauriel stepped closer to the iron bars and addressed the prisoner in a voice as gentle as she could manage, "Don't be afraid, you have nothing to fear."

The being gave her a wary glare and muttered, "Nasty Elfses hurt us with their shiny knives, my precious." Then it turned its back to them.

Legolas looked even more bewildered than he had before, if that was at all possible. "He seems… haunted," he declared.

"I have to admit that the soldiers didn't treat either of them very gently when they brought them in last night," Tauriel conceded, "so he has a point in mistrusting us. We won't get any information from him, I assume."

"Let's move on to the other one then," Legolas suggested.

The Adan was already waiting for them when they approached his cell. He came to the bars and greeted them in elven fashion with a bow of his head and his right hand above his heart. "Good morning – again," he addressed Tauriel. "May I hope for a more peaceful conversation this time?"

Legolas threw her an appraising glance, which she acknowledged by hissing, "What? He isn't hurt, is he?"

Legolas bit back a smirk and turned towards the Man. "Who are you and what is this creature you brought with you?" he asked him firmly.

The Adan took a deep breath and answered calmly, "Among the Eldar I am known by the name Estel. I was sent by the wizard Mithrandir to capture this creature and deliver him to the King of the Woodland Realm for safekeeping." He nodded in direction of the other cell. "His name is Sméagol and he once was an innocent being that has been corrupted by evil. He has suffered a lot, so I plead you to treat him with kindness." His last words were accompanied by a telling glance at Tauriel, who could not help but roll her eyes.

Legolas did not give her a chance to comment. "Why does he need to be kept safe? Who has an interest in him?"

The Man hesitated a moment. "I would rather discuss this subject with your king," he finally stated.

That was enough for Tauriel. She planted herself in front of the prisoner and snarled, "You can as well discuss it with the king's son and his Captain of the Guard. We'll be with you at the audience anyway." It came out more aggressively than intended.

Legolas put his hand on her arm to calm her. "Relax," he whispered. He hummed under his breath and seemed to ponder his options for a moment, but then he said, "We'll take both of them to my father right away. Neldor!"

The prison guard hurried to follow the call and on Legolas' signal he opened the Adan's cell door, not without throwing a hesitant look at the captain first. Tauriel only shrugged and let him do as he had been told. 'So much for being too trusting towards strangers,' she thought, subtly checking which one of the weapons she was carrying was the fastest to reach.

The stranger stepped out of the cell, making sure to keep at least an arm's length between himself and the captain. Legolas indicated him to follow him and Tauriel went after them with a sigh. The guard opened the second cell and had to make quite an effort to get the creature to come out. Unfortunately the only method that turned out to be persuasive enough was Tauriel's blade. The prisoner continued muttering and cursing under his breath, but eventually he followed.

"You speak like the Eldar of Imladris," Legolas remarked to the Adan while entering the corridor that led to the higher levels of the palace.

The stranger affirmed, "I grew up there under Lord Elrond's protection." Tauriel, who was busy keeping an eye on Sméagol, was certainly surprised at that notion, but not half as much so as the prince. The captain could only wonder in silence as Legolas and the Adan started talking about Imladris and its inhabitants as though they had known each other for years.

They only interrupted their conversation when they reached the entrance of the throne room, where a small crowd of people had already gathered to wait for an audience. When they became aware of the prince, they stepped out of the way and let the strange group pass.

The watchmen opened one wing of the heavy iron door and Tauriel had to give the creature a gentle but determined push to make him enter. "Remember, I'm right behind the two of you!" she hissed, tightening her grip around her dagger hilts. She could have sworn that the Adan was trying to suppress a smirk.

On the other side of the cave the king was just ascending the stairs to his throne while talking to Galion. Legolas and Tauriel exchanged a look of mutual reassurance, then they started their way across the bridge.

* * *

><p>Tauriel displayed a worried grimace while she watched the two guards leading the captive through the main gate and to the edge of the forest. She obviously did not approve of the idea to let Sméagol – or Gollum, as he seemed to call himself – climb a tree once in a while. Legolas eyed the captain hesitantly from across the courtyard; he was still undecided whether he should side with her or his father in this matter. Eventually he resolved that it could certainly not hurt to let the poor creature see the sun once in a while. It had made him less aggressive after all.<p>

Tauriel turned towards the Adan, who was leaning against a pillar of the gate and blowing smoke rings from his pipe. She said something Legolas could not understand, but her face still reflected her concern. While coming closer to Estel, she made a visible effort to suppress a cough. Legolas grinned – how those Edain smoked their blasted pipes without suffocating and why anyone would enjoy inhaling the fumes of burnt leaves at all was a question no Elda would ever be able to answer.

Estel replied something and Tauriel nodded, not looking too convinced. Legolas asked the Valar to spare the Guard any unpleasant incidents with the strange guest, especially since Tauriel was going to leave the palace that same day.

As expected, the king had decided to attend the meeting in Lothlórien. Estel's explanations about the captive had convinced Thranduil of the necessity to take action. As it was a matter of defence, the Captain of the Guard was required to accompany him on the journey, while Legolas would take over the duties of the king once again.

In fact, he and his father were right in the middle of discussing the last details concerning the king's absence. Thranduil had insisted on going through the whole routine again, even though it was not Legolas' first time as a substitute ruler and he felt like he knew exactly what to do. So he was not surprised at himself when he caught his eyes wandering off to Tauriel at the gate, while his father went on talking about the palace's crop reserves.

"Are you listening to me?" Thranduil suddenly interrupted Legolas' contemplation.

"Of course I am," the prince gave back quickly, but his father's keen eyes did not miss the cause of the distraction and a frown appeared on his face. He assessed Tauriel, who was still talking to the Adan, before he turned back to his son and requested, "Come inside with me." Without waiting for a response he walked off to the entrance of the royal quarters, leaving Legolas no other choice than to follow him.

The king directed his steps to Legolas' chambers. He entered and came to a stand by the fireplace, waiting for his son to follow him and close the door. After that he gave him a long, investigative stare, almost making Legolas feel like an elfling in trouble again.

When Thranduil finally decided to start talking, he sounded rather tired than anything else. "How many times have we spoken about Tauriel?"

"Often enough," Legolas gave back, feeling a familiar defiance rise in him.

Thranduil's eyes hardened for a moment when he continued, "Indeed. So tell me, why are you so determined to set my advice at naught?"

Legolas took a deep breath and forced himself to speak calmly. "I value your advice, as you know very well. However, in this matter there is nothing you or anyone else can say to change my mind. Tauriel and I love each other and we both intend to make our match official at some point."

Thranduil nearly snorted – a most extraordinary thing for him to do – and declared, "That is ridiculous."

"Adar," Legolas tried to object once more, but the king interrupted him.

"You will not pledge yourself to that elleth. The matter requires no further discussion."

Legolas could not help but close his eyes for a moment and breathe in slowly to gather his thoughts. "I am afraid it does," he finally managed to say, surprised at how confident he sounded. His father was still observing him critically without making an attempt to reply. He was obviously waiting for an explanation, so Legolas went on, involuntarily clasping the edge of his desk, "It's Tauriel or no one. My heart has belonged to her for centuries and that will not change because you demand it. With all due respect, Adar, I would wish to have you blessing, but I am not asking your permission."

"Ion nín, I suggest you reconsider your tone," it came back icily while the king stayed immobile as a statue. Legolas fought the anger that wanted to take over his mind and instead he noticed something unexpected in his father's expression. Was he mistaken or did he indeed detect a hint of regret?

"Did you not marry Naneth for love?" he tried to address Thranduil's feelings.

The king seemed to lose a part of his rigid air on the mentioning of his wife. For a few seconds he pondered the appropriate answer, but then he affirmed more softly, "I did indeed. However, she was of noble descent and fit to be a queen. One day you may be king of this realm and what would you want with a wife who can slay spiders and Orcs but not, in the slightest, behave like a lady?"

Legolas could only just stop his face from giving away his bewilderment. It was more than obvious that the king was making up excuses. "Beg your pardon? You discourage me to be with the person I love because of her manners?" he repeated in utter disbelief. His father would have to come up with something more convincing to end this discussion.

Thranduil did not dignify his son's remark with an answer and forced him to probe further, "Tell me what it is that you really have against her? You have known her for centuries, you have entrusted our realm's safety to her, you value her opinion – why is she good enough to protect your people but not to be your daughter-in-law?"

The king gazed at his son for a long while, not showing any emotion whatsoever. Then he turned his eyes to the glowing embers in the fireplace and contemplated them in silence for another few seconds, before he finally looked at Legolas again and said quietly, "Tauriel is a warrior with heart and soul. We both know she will not simply put her bow and blades aside, not even for you, and you would never force her to do so. But would you not like to have a family of your own? She would have to give up her career for that. And even if we neglect that notion – what if her recklessness gets her killed someday, as it has almost happened dozens of times before? Do you wish to spend the rest of your existence in grief and loneliness?"

Legolas could not reply anything for a long time. He stared at his father's back, who had turned to the fireplace again, undoubtedly to conceal his shaken expression. He felt stupid for not noticing that Thranduil's reluctance and his many different objections had at least partly been based on concern rather than pride. Of course he still had no right to decide with whom Legolas would or would not spend his life, but now that his motives had become clearer, his meddling seemed at least a little more understandable. He certainly had a point, especially after his own painful experience.

Legolas took a careful step towards him and addressed him, "Adar, I see your point, but…"

"Then take a while to consider it," the king interrupted him. He turned around, gave Legolas a short, bewildered look and walked past him. Without further ado he stated, "I will leave in an hour. If you have any more concerns about your upcoming duties, I suggest you voice them until then." With that said, he was gone, leaving Legolas to his astonishment and his bad consciousness.

* * *

><p>Thranduil walked slowly along the path under the golden leaf canopy of Caras Galadhon. He breathed the clear, mild evening air and listened to the merry voices of the birds as well as a melancholic Galadhrim song that could be heard in the distance. Winter seemed to overlook Lothlorien every year when it came to put nature to sleep. The Golden Wood remained untouched by frost and snow, always looking as fair as if it were summer.<p>

The king of the Woodland Realm would never have admitted it, especially not to Lady Galadriel, but staying in this beautiful place, far away from the shadow that poisoned his own lands, made him feel at peace, despite the alarming issues that were discussed. The rulers of the three elven realms agreed that there was nothing to be done at the moment but to investigate the situation and join forces with the other Free Peoples wherever it was possible. All four of them remembered the horrible power of that ancient evil, Thranduil perhaps most of all, having lost his father and his own health during the war that had ended its last reign of terror.

He still refused to believe that Sauron should be returning to his full power, although there was no reasonable ground for denying it. With an involuntary frown he brushed his fingertips through the high grass at the edge of the path.

"It is a peaceful place, is it not?" The voice he had known for millennia made him give a small start and spin around.

"It is," he affirmed, "if only one could walk here without being waylaid."

He gave Lord Elrond a smirk, which the other ellon returned and answered, "I apologise. May I join you?"

"Of course," Thranduil allowed and together they continued their way in silence.

"I am glad you have come," Elrond stated after a while. "To be honest, I did not expect you to follow the invitation."

Thranduil grumbled and threw an exhausted look at his old friend. "I have found that meddling with the concerns of other lands has never served my people well," he gave back.

Elrond eyed him almost ironically. "And yet here you are."

Thranduil did not reply except for a nod, so Elrond changed the subject, "I hope we did not burden you too much with the guest we sent you. Mithrandir assumed that Mir-…, the Woodland Realm would be the safest hiding place for him."

"Because not even the henchmen of evil would enter it willingly?" Thranduil finished his sentence with an expression somewhere between a frown and a smirk.

Elrond tilted his head and replied diplomatically, "His reasons are not mine to judge."

"He is certainly one of a kind. On our last meeting I asked him not to bear me any ill news again soon, so he resorted to your Dúnadan foster son to carry out that mission. How very curious," Thranduil noted, observing Elrond's reaction.

The latter gave him a small nod and answered, "I must side with Mithrandir in that point. Aragorn was indeed our best bet. He turned out rather well, I admit. If only I could trust him in every respect as well as I can when it comes to creeping through the wilderness and reading tracks." He let out a sigh and shook his head slightly before he added thoughtfully, "The race of Men has failed us before and I hope to Eru that this one will be an exception."

"Hope is all we have," Thranduil agreed, but Elrond was not done musing about his foster son yet.

"He is betrothed to my daughter, you know," he stated in an almost offended tone that made Thranduil bite back a grin.

"I know, you mentioned it before. Several times," he replied as neutrally as he could. He had to allow himself a little compassion for Elrond though. A mortal was even worse than a Silvan warrior.

"Forgive me, I do not wish to bore you with the concerns of a worried father," his friend interjected. "Deem yourself lucky to have a son who does not engage in such follies." Thranduil chose to refrain from any comment.

After a short pause he made an attempt to turn the conversation back towards more practical issues. "I suppose the Istari are busy investigating the current developments?"

"Yes," Elrond confirmed, "until we receive news from Mithrandir and Saruman, we will have to strengthen our own defences. Do you think you can keep the Nazgûl and the Orcs that are now lingering in Dol Guldur in bay or will your guard need reinforcement?"

Thranduil stopped, giving him a long, thorough glare before he pointed out slowly, "Mellon nín, my people had kept that evil in bay for more than two thousand years before any of you even noticed its existence. You may take them for a bunch of uncultured wood dwellers – how did Mithrandir phrase it once? Was it 'less wise and more dangerous'? It is true, they got themselves crushed like flies during the last war you saw them fight, but believe me, they do not need any help in defending their own home."

With that he quickened his pace in order to bring some space between himself and Elrond. It was bothersome enough to endure the presence of Lady Galadriel, which always made him feel judged even though his mind told him that he had to be imagining it. Feeling the need to defend his people in front of his old friend as well, a friend whose opinion he valued greatly, was a very uncomfortable notion.

Elrond gave him a minute to himself before he answered, "I see, so much the better. Your captain appears rather determined and capable to me."

"She is," Thranduil affirmed shortly, being reminded of his last conversation with Legolas – yet another issue that was currently weighing on his mind. Sometimes the Valar seemed to take a wicked enjoyment in watching people struggle. 'I really need to follow Nimiel's advice and stop worrying so much,' he thought.

„You did the right thing in bringing the leader of your troops with you. I should have brought Glorfindel as well," Elrond stated rather to himself than to Thranduil. "He could have taken a look at the situation himself instead of asking me a thousand questions about the meeting when I return. Just among the two of us: He can be quite fatiguing at times, even Erestor agrees with me on that. In fact, that is why I persuaded him to stay in Imladris. But he and your captain could have exchanged some useful experiences, given that all of us will soon face the same evil."

Now it was Thranduil's turn to look at his friend in ironic astonishment. "What useful experiences could Tauriel possibly share with Glorfindel?" he asked. "She is but seven hundred years old, has only seen one battle, half of which she spent unconscious, and she is quite the opposite of a level-headed strategist."

"Oh well, a fresh perspective and a little youthful spirit might do him good," Elrond mused, making a visible effort not to look too annoyed. "Slaying Balrogs and returning from the Halls of Mandos does add greatly to people's self-esteem."

Thranduil suppressed a chuckle, but then an idea crossed his mind that would solve two or maybe three problems at once. "How about you take Captain Tauriel with you to Imladris for some time?" he suggested, hoping to sound neutral enough. Elrond raised an eyebrow, obviously waiting for an explanation to that extraordinary proposition, so Thranduil complied, "She could benefit from Glorfindel's experience, whereas he could… well, whatever you think he could draw from such an encounter."

"Sending your Chief of Guards away in these uncertain times?" Elrond objected, but Thranduil was getting more and more convinced of his idea.

Maybe a temporary separation would give Legolas the chance to think about his decision once more – and even if he stayed unmoved, at least Thranduil would not have to see them together for a while and the captain would probably gain new valuable insights that would improve her performance. "I do not worry about that. Legolas can take over most of her duties," the king replied. "It will be an excellent opportunity for him to practice his leadership skills."

Elrond still looked doubtful, but in the end he agreed. Thranduil decided to inform his captain immediately to prevent himself from changing his mind. He all but dragged his friend to one of the talans where the Lothlórien Guard was accommodated, provoking lots of astonished reactions from the soldiers.

As expected, that was where they found Tauriel, along with the other Woodland soldiers of the king's escort, sitting near the edge of the talan and conversing with a few Galadhrim guards. Thranduil cringed internally on seeing Tauriel engaged in a half-serious argument and giving her opinion as bluntly as always.

"Oh, shut up, Haldir!" he heard her hiss. "You wouldn't last two minutes against a giant spider with those ridiculous knives of yours! Little girls play with things like that in Greenwood." Thranduil could not help agreeing with her, but he silenced the inconvenient feeling of solidarity.

The Galadhrim soldier in question retaliated immediately, "Obviously the little girls of Mirkwood learn to butcher spiders long before they learn manners." He would have said more, but one of his comrades nudged him in the ribs, making him and the rest of the group aware of the two lords approaching.

"Tauriel!" the king addressed the surprised captain. "Come and join us." She rose and looked back and forth between him and Elrond in confusion.

"Yes, my lord?" she managed to say while approaching them and taking a bow.

Thranduil pondered his decision one last time, coming to the conclusion that drastic circumstances required drastic measures. He cleared his throat, gave her the most kingly look he had at his disposal and informed her, "Captain, I have an unscheduled mission for you."

* * *

><p>Nimiel stared at the king in disbelief, unable to make sense of the news she had just received at his return. "You sent her to Imladris?" she repeated, knowing exactly how dull she sounded parroting back his words, but not caring in the slightest. Suddenly the king's ample study felt too small for both of them.<p>

"As I said," Thranduil affirmed, sounding far too indifferent.

Nimiel glared at him for another good while before she asked, "Can you tell me one good reason for doing that?"

"She will learn about the defence system of another realm and train Lord Elrond's soldiers in our military strategies in turn," he gave back in a studied manner. "It is an opportunity she should be grateful for."

Nimiel took a deep breath. "This is about Legolas, is it not?" she blurted. "What a convenient way of getting rid of her. Do you really think that keeping them temporarily apart will change their hearts?" Under normal circumstances she would have regretted her harsh phrasing immediately, but with this decision Thranduil had managed to push her past the point of giving a spider's claw about manners – which meant a lot in Nimiel's case.

The king's look suddenly turned from indifference to disapproval. "Regardless of whether my decision does or does not involve the prince, it is not your place to question my orders to my captain," he stated coldly and turned away from Nimiel, fixing his eyes on a piece of parchment on his desk.

Nimiel forced herself to stay calm when she replied, "I suppose it is not. But it is my place to be concerned for my daughter's well-being. And your son's, for what it is worth, as you are apparently lacking the empathy to do so yourself."

"Rest assured that my son does not need your advocacy. He is perfectly aware of his position and the duties attached to it," his response came promptly, causing Nimiel's fists to clench.

"The duties?" she repeated once again. "This is hardly a matter of duty, my lord. Do you not wish your son to be happy?"

She had taken a few steps towards the desk and assessed the king quizzically.

Thranduil raised an eyebrow, unwilling to give in. "I do, and still a prince of the Woodland Realm is not supposed to taint his reputation in this manner," he snapped.

That was when Nimiel exploded. "Taint his… What in Manwë's name is the matter with you?" she retorted sharply, unable to stop her hands from gesturing in an altogether unpoised manner. "Why do you assume they do not intend to render their match respectable? Is my daughter not good enough for you?"

Thranduil's posture went rigid and he made a quick movement towards her, but stopped himself right in the middle of it. "That is out of the question," he hissed. "My son will not pledge himself to a common soldier of questionable descent and behaviour. He needs to consider more than his feelings, he bears a certain responsibility..."

"These words sound awfully familiar," Nimiel could not stop herself from spitting, although she desperately tried. "Your father would be immensely proud of you right now."

He needed a moment to process her words, which had clearly caught him by surprise. "Would you leave the past out of this?" he eventually demanded and Nimiel felt a little embarrassed for her unprofessional remark.

"Very well," she gave in, her voice dripping with condescension and her glare as icy as the top of the Lonely Mountain in December. "However, as for Legolas and Tauriel…"

"My lady, there will be no further need to discuss this subject," Thranduil interrupted her with a look on his face that would have scared most people to death. After a short pause he added, "I suggest you take your leave."

She had to blink and close her mouth by force at that blatant dismissal. Had he really just thrown her out of his study in the middle of a discussion? Apparently she had heard him right because he had turned away from her again and was now walking towards the bookshelf on the opposite side of the room. Nimiel could not decide whether she felt furious or hurt or both at once and to her own astonishment she could think of nothing more to say. Without another look at the king she turned on her heels, rushed out of the room and slammed the door shut as she had not done in five thousand years.


	29. Black Horses

Legolas bit the inside of his cheek in order to stay silent while Nimiel stuck the needle through his skin once again. "We are almost done," she assured him when she noticed the little wince he could not suppress. Legolas forced his mind to recite an ancient poem to distract himself from the pain in his shoulder blade.

"You were fortunate," Nimiel stated, "it is nothing dramatic, only quite painful, I am afraid."

"You don't say," he grumbled behind gritted teeth, trying to sound ironic but failing miserably. He was not sure if it was really the stitches or rather his disappointment in himself that hurt the most. Receiving a blow to the back was not exactly an indicator for vigilance. The last time he had displayed such negligence had been about six hundred years ago.

But again, there had been so many Orcs at the river bend that none of the Woodland soldiers had cared about anything else than mere survival. They had set out to recapture their escaped prisoner, but in the end, after more than a week of persecution, they had been forced to retreat due to the sheer mass of enemies.

Once again Legolas reasoned that he should not have led his unit so close to Dol Guldur, however shameful it was to let a prisoner slip right through his fingers. He had probably been a little too eager to prove that the Woodland Guard would not be fooled by a few intruding Orcs. Now he was paying the painful price, as well as most of his soldiers.

He did not even want to imagine the look on Tauriel's face if she knew that her Guard had been unable to keep one single prisoner. She had been gone for three months, yet it felt more like three years. Legolas could not deny how bewildered and angry he had been when his father had returned from Lothlórien without her. She would certainly enjoy Imladris and Legolas granted her the opportunity to see a little more of the world, but at the same time he missed her terribly and asked the Valar to keep her safe every single day.

A little tug and the stinging pain that followed told Legolas that Nimiel had just finished sewing his wound and cut the thread. She allowed him to get up, but with all the thoughts circulating in his head it took him a moment to do so. Nimiel threw him an appraising glance and remarked, "You did very well out there. No one can blame you for the outcome." While Nimiel walked to the shelf by the door and produced a piece of clean linen from one of the countless boxes in it, Legolas managed a polite smile and mumbled his thanks.

The healer came back to him and placed the linen on his wound after soaking it in an undefinable yellow substance and fixed everything with a bandage. When she was almost done, there was a knock at the door. Nimiel called the visitor in and Legolas felt her hands freeze in the middle of their movement when the king stepped inside. He glanced back and forth between his father and the healer, almost able to touch the tension that suddenly spread in the small treatment room.

Nimiel attached the end of the bandage a little more hastily than she normally would, gave Legolas a reassuring yet somewhat forced smile and without a word or even a look at the king she rushed out of the room. Legolas stared at the closed door for a moment before he called himself to order, straightened up and readjusted his tunic.

"How are you feeling, ion nín?" Thranduil inquired.

"I'm fine," Legolas gave back quickly, very aware that he was exaggerating, but eager to reassure his father. "It's hardly more than a scratch."

The king let out a sigh of relief and Legolas could have sworn to detect a hint of a smile on his altogether troubled face. "Adar, I am sorry we did not recapture Gollum," he started, but Thranduil interrupted him.

"What is done is done. You and your soldiers could have done nothing more. Approaching Dol Guldur any closer is out of the question, even with more soldiers. That creature is not worth such risk."

"But Mithrandir trusted us to…"

"Then we will express our regret for disappointing him," the king silenced his son's doubts firmly. Legolas swallowed his next remark and started to get used to the idea of having failed not only his father but also the Istari, Lord Elrond and everyone else involved.

"Should we inform the White Council?" he asked hesitantly after a while.

The king nodded slowly, already deep in thought. "We must," he confirmed. "This Orc attack was no coincidence. Gollum knew they were coming, or else he would not have refused to climb down that tree. I cannot see how it was possible, but we have to consider a plan behind the whole affair."

He took a few slow steps towards the door, then he turned around and stated, "I will send a messenger to Imladris. If anyone can make sense of this, it is most likely Elrond. Besides, he can inform us about any new developments the Istari may have discovered."

Legolas rose – making an admirable effort not to let his face reflect his pain – and requested, "Let me go to Imladris. I let him escape, I should deliver the message." He knew how far-fetched his explanation sounded, but he could not think of anything smarter at the moment and he absolutely wanted to take the task upon himself.

Thranduil assessed him thoroughly, giving the impression that he had already foreseen Legolas' suggestion. "I would not have you undertake such a risky journey," he objected, "especially not while you are injured."

As if to prove him wrong, Legolas took some quick steps towards his father, biting back the pain that sliced through his shoulder, and replied, "This will heal soon enough. As I told you, it's just a scratch. Consider, what if there is indeed important news about Mordor? Would you not prefer to have someone present who can speak for the Woodland Realm, rather than a mere messenger?"

"There are many besides you who would be capable of that," Thranduil pointed out dryly, but Legolas was determined to persuade him.

"Please, Adar, let me be the one. I cannot bear to stay idly in these halls while the world is facing such evil." He was surprised how calm and firm his voice sounded and even more astonished about the king's reaction. Thranduil let out a deep breath and a small smile of resignation quirked his lips.

"Very well," he conceded in a tone full of exhaustion, "but you will wait a few more days until your shoulder has improved. Inform Lord Elrond, gather whatever news you may receive and come straight back."

Legolas could not quite hide his satisfaction. "I will. Anything else?" He gave his father a suggestive glance, knowing that all the king needed to make another inevitable decision was one last little push.

Finally Thranduil rolled his eyes and gave in by muttering, "Tell him I need my captain back."

Legolas nodded, managed the most professional expression and tone he had at his disposal and affirmed, "Yes, my lord. I shall see it done."

* * *

><p>It was a sunny morning and a mild autumn breeze was blowing through the delicate colonnades and pavilions along Tauriel's way. Imladris was still a place full of wonders to her – however, at the moment she did not pay much attention to the beauty around her.<p>

She was late and if there was one thing Lord Glorfindel despised, it was waiting. More precisely, he would not wait for her at all. He would go through the officers' morning briefing regardless of who was or was not present, leaving Tauriel, who had no fixed duties in Imladris, to a day of enforced idleness and compunction.

The unpleasant prospect made her quicken her pace. Where, for the love of Elbereth, had she ended up? The Last Homely House they called it, but to Tauriel it rather resembled a labyrinth. She could find her way through the thickest forest in the blackest of nights, yet the countless corridors, halls and gardens of Imladris were still a closed book to her.

Finally she came around a corner that looked familiar. And indeed, there she could see the eight officers, sitting around the stone table on the small patio surrounded by white marble pillars where the morning meetings took place. She needed a moment to realise that everyone looked far too relaxed and another few seconds to understand the reason.

"Don't worry, he isn't here yet!" a soldier named Leithian, who had become her indispensable guide around Imladris during the last weeks, voiced Tauriel's own thought. She exhaled in relief, making a few of the officers chuckle.

"What's wrong with him?" she asked while sitting down next to Leithian.

He displayed a clueless expression and shrugged. "I have no idea. I think I have never seen him late in my entire two thousand years of duty."

"None of us has," his comrade Aeglos agreed. "I bet we're in for some… extraordinary news." He frowned, taking a bite of the pear he was holding.

"What took you so long? Did you get lost again?" Leithian asked Tauriel with a grin.

She arched an eyebrow at him and answered, "Obviously – don't look at me like that! Yes, I know, you explained this so-called shortcut to me, but you said I had to follow the colonnade and turn right at the fountain. Do you have any idea how many blasted fountains there are in this place?"

The officers sitting near her tried their best not to laugh. "We should plant a few trees as landmarks for our friend from the forest," Aeglos suggested, earning himself a half-serious scowl from Tauriel. She was just about to defend the geographical peculiarities of her homeland when Leithian signalled her to be quiet and Aeglos to put away his pear.

Approaching footsteps and two familiar voices could be distinguished around the next corner. "Do you have enough capable riders to eliminate this threat?" they heard Lord Erestor ask with clear concern, followed by Lord Glorfindel's firmer but no less worried answer.

"We cannot eliminate it. I have told you before and I am telling you again: Not by the hand of a man will he fall! All we can do at present is try to keep the roads safe, yet I fear we do not even have sufficient riders for that task, especially with Elladan and Elrohir gone."

Tauriel exchanged a glance with Leithian and Aeglos, but there was no time for questions because the next instant the two lords already entered the patio, their faces matching the concern in their voices. "What a lazy bunch you are! Up you get, there is work to be done!" was the greeting offered to the soldiers by Lord Glorfindel. The officers obliged him, some more eagerly than others.

He planted himself in front of them and made an effort to manage a friendly look at everyone, but his worried face did not add to its credibility. "I have to bear you some alarming news," he started, supported by a slow nod from Lord Erestor. "We have reason to believe that at least three of the Nine are roaming the lands around the valley. Our scouts reported the sighting of Black Riders west of the Bruinen."

"What are the Nine?" Tauriel whispered in Leithian's ear, but he did not get the chance to reply. His shocked expression at least told her that the situation was serious.

Glorfindel continued, "Given that we are expecting the arrival of some visitors whose safety is most crucial, Lord Elrond and I deem it wise to patrol all roads, paths and fords. All of you will take your most capable riders and ensure that no harm befalls those who are wandering towards Imladris."

He started assigning them their respective directions, ignoring Tauriel in the process, which did not surprise her in the slightest. She knew he did not trust her skills and she could not even blame him because he had never seen her doing anything else than watching the other officers at work.

At some point he paused, assessing the group sceptically. "These are not enough, I need at least one more," he pointed out to Erestor, as if the people he was speaking about were not even present.

Tauriel, after exchanging another look with Leithian and reading a hint of encouragement on his face, plucked up all her courage and interjected, "I am still available."

Glorfindel's eyes turned towards her and rested on her for a moment before he addressed his companion again, "Erestor, tell me again what I am supposed to do with this girl." At first Tauriel thought she had heard him wrong. She had seen a lot of Glorfindel's proverbial peculiarities and got used to not being taken seriously by him, but this was more than she could bear. Were the Eldar of Imladris not said to be cultured and polite?

At least Erestor showed some awkwardness when he replied discreetly but with a hint of annoyance, "We talked about this, remember? Captain Tauriel is Elrond's guest and as such she will stay as long as he sees fit in order to get to know our defence system and share her own experience with our soldiers." He recited his little line in a studied manner and Tauriel suspected that it was by far not the first time he had done so.

"He does have strange guests these days, I grant you," Glorfindel grumbled. "I do not mind the messenger from our kin in Mithlond, but yesterday a horde of Dwarves from Erebor arrived – as if that Gondorian was not enough already."

Erestor seemed relieved that his friend's displeasure had turned away from Tauriel and towards the general circumstances. "It is true, many are coming to seek our council. Times are perilous indeed," he replied evasively.

Glorfindel nodded, then he gave Tauriel another thorough stare. After half an eternity he took a deep breath and addressed her, "Well then, Captain Tauriel, I trust you can sit on a horse and hold a blade?"

"Two, if I must," she gave back dryly.

"Have you ever faced a Nazgûl?" he probed on.

For all Tauriel knew, he was making a general remark about her lacking experience. "No, my lord," she gave back, convinced that he could not actually be suggesting that there were Ringwraiths out and about.

"Then this will be your first time. You will lead a group of riders to the northern crossroads. Do not despair, they know the terrain," he added graciously, making Tauriel both furious and shocked.

Before she could ask if he was serious about the Nazgûl – in fact a look into the other officers' faces rendered her question mute – Glorfindel ordered them, "Start gathering your soldiers right away and pack sufficient provisions because you will not return until you receive further notice. You are dismissed."

For a few seconds Tauriel stayed immobile, staring at the commander in disbelief, but at some point she felt Leithian's grip around her arm and let herself be dragged off with her comrades.

* * *

><p>When Tauriel and her four companions rode across the bridge, through the gate and into the small round courtyard of Imladris at sunset, they could look back on thirteen days spent in the wilderness, patrolling the paths near the crossroads north of Lord Elrond's house. Tauriel felt physically exhausted and mentally drained and she knew that the same was true for the four soldiers.<p>

They had received the order to retreat in the early morning hours. A messenger had informed them of the expected guests' more or less safe arrival and told them that there was no more immediate danger because the Black Riders had been temporarily defeated by the river itself, by command of Lord Elrond and Mithrandir.

The Captain of the Woodland Guard had learned several lessons during that mission: One – the soldiers of Imladris excelled at open field fighting. Two – she herself hated open field fighting and missed the good old thick coppice and twisted trees of Greenwood. Three – Nazgûl were not vulnerable to arrows, however accurately shot, but at least they got annoyed and fled when a whole rain of arrows came down on them, apparently in order to preserve their horses' lives without which they were helpless. And four, which was probably the lesson that would stick the longest – Tauriel never wanted to face creatures of such pure evil ever again and she felt the overwhelming urge to protect those she held dear from any encounter even remotely alike to the one she had gone through.

Even after five days had passed, Tauriel still felt the strange cold in her heart and the mindless fear that had befallen her in the presence of the two Black Riders her unit had faced. Given the overall situation, she knew she would probably have to get used to the feeling. All she could think of to preserve her sanity at the moment was to force her mind away from the memories.

The unit dismounted their horses and two stablemen came out to take care of the no less confused animals. Tauriel thanked the four soldiers for their effort and dismissed them, then she made her way to the main building, where she hoped to find Lord Glorfindel in order to give her report.

She was walking along another one of the countless colonnades, which seemed to be a signature feature of Imladris as well as the ubiquitous fountains, and her mind had once again returned to the terrifying encounter, so she did not notice anything odd about the fact that suddenly a Woodland soldier crossed her way and greeted her.

"Good evening, Rineth," she gave back absent-mindedly and walked on three or four steps before it eventually dawned on her. She stopped short, turned around and glanced at the astonished elleth. "Rineth? What are you doing here?"

"I arrived three days ago with the prince's escort," the soldier answered, assessing Tauriel critically and undoubtedly wondering what Imladris had done to her captain.

"The prince is here?" Tauriel repeated rather sheepishly. "Why?"

Rineth hesitated a moment, unsure whether it was her place to reveal the information. At last she muttered, "I believe he would rather tell you himself. You can find him in Lord Elrond's library, I assume, if you would like to speak to him…"

Tauriel had already taken the first steps in the indicated direction. "Thank you," she managed to say hastily and received the soldier's salute with a nod, before she threw over all plans to find Lord Glorfindel and decided to solve the mystery of Legolas' unexpected visit.

As Rineth had advised her, Tauriel directed her steps to the library. When she entered, all muddy and dishevelled as she was, she earned herself a glare from Lindir, Lord Elrond's ever watchful steward, who was lighting a few candles, but she already knew him well enough to parry his disapproval with a polite smile.

The library consisted of various small rooms full of delicately carved shelves, comfortable chairs and a few small tables. There were chandeliers everywhere – quite the fire hazard, Tauriel thought – which bathed the whole place in warm, welcoming light, mingled with the last sunrays that entered through the large windows.

Tauriel passed two rooms until she finally found what she was looking for. Legolas was sitting at one of the tables with his back turned to her and he seemed absorbed in his lecture. With a nod she acknowledged the presence of another ellon searching a large shelf, while she walked quietly towards Legolas. Without a word she sat down on the second chair at the opposite side of his table and simply looked at him for a few seconds, until he finally lifted his gaze off the large, leather-bound volume in front of him.

He blinked, then his eyes widened. "Tauriel!" he exclaimed a little too loudly, making the ellon at the shelf give a start. "Thank the Valar!" He hesitated a moment, obviously fighting the urge to get up and embrace her because such a gesture of intimacy would have been inappropriate in a public place. Instead he reached for her hands across the table.

"I heard you were out hunting Black Riders," he whispered hectically and repeated, "thank Eru and all the Valar that you're safe!"

Tauriel felt a wide smile spread over her face. Seeing him, hearing his voice and feeling the reassuring touch of his hands lifted most of the uneasy feelings off her for the moment. "Why are you here?" she wanted to know, ignoring the discreet glance of the other ellon.

Legolas' expression darkened for an instant. "I have come to bear some rather… worrisome news to Lord Elrond." He looked around, caught the glance of the ellon and decided, "Let's find somewhere else to talk." He rose, picked up his book, which Tauriel could identify as a collection of tales about the war against Sauron, and slid it into an empty spot on the closest shelf. Then they both made their way towards the exit.

When they had left the library and entered a corridor that seemed empty, Legolas could finally make up for the earlier lost opportunity and pulled Tauriel into his arms. "I wanted to strangle my father when I heard he had sent you here," he mumbled into her ear. "By the way, you're obviously coming back with me."

Tauriel chuckled and replied, "I wouldn't stand for anything else. But it's not bad here, actually. Imladris is truly fascinating and most of the soldiers are nice to me. I've learned a lot in this short time. If only I hadn't missed our home so much – and you." She emphasised her words with a kiss that contained everything she had been forced to keep to herself during the last months. It felt so good and reassuring to be near him again, especially after the unspeakable evil she had seen not long ago.

She almost forgot to inquire after the business that had brought him to Imladris and when she finally remembered, it took her a good deal of willpower to bring a sufficient distance between her and Legolas to talk to him properly. "So, tell me your bad news," she requested.

Legolas frowned and avoided her eyes when he replied slowly, "Well, it's about the prisoner, Gollum. He… escaped."

"What?" Tauriel could not stop herself from exclaiming. "Please don't tell me it happened during one of his tree climbing sessions!"

"It did," Legolas affirmed guiltily, "but there is more: We were attacked by an Orc pack and it looks like they had planned to abduct him. We chased them for several days, but when we came close to Dol Guldur, we had to retreat because suddenly the forest was swarmed with Orcs. So, yes, Gollum is gone."

Tauriel let out a long, deep breath before she stated slowly with as much composure as she could, "I'm away for less than four months and you people manage to undermine my entire security system."

"Oh, come on!" Legolas protested. "No one could have foreseen that attack, not even you!"

As much as she wanted to argue with that, she had to submit to his point. "You're right, I'm sorry. It's just that I have been worrying the whole time that something might happen back home while I could not do anything to help."

Legolas took her hand and answered, "You made yourself useful here instead. I think we must stop thinking of our own homeland's fate as separate from the rest of the world in these uncertain times. Did you hear that Lord Glorfindel brought some halflings from the West here yesterday? One of them was gravely wounded by the Black Riders. The Adan who delivered Gollum to us was with them – who, by the way, turns out to be a little more than just a fatherless Dúnadan, but I'll tell you about that later. Apparently the Hobbits were the Nazgûl's target because of something they were carrying. What is more, there are also some Dwarves from Erebor and a man from Gondor in Imladris who wish to seek Lord Elrond's advice in matters that all seem to be connected to the same threat in some way. Mithrandir is here as well. Lord Elrond did not tell me much, but he said that he would hold a council meeting as soon as the halfling is well enough to attend it."

Tauriel had listened to him with growing concern. Her mind was too exhausted to make sense of it all, but she was absolutely sure that nothing good would be revealed at that meeting.

* * *

><p>The Hall of Fire was as crowded as Tauriel had never seen it before. She and Legolas had left the noisy feast purposely to find some peace and quiet, but their plan did not pay off very well. As always, there was a fire burning in the centre of the large room. People were gathered in chairs, on benches or simply standing around while listening to a poetry recital.<p>

Tauriel pulled Legolas with her to a place where they could see the poet and whispered in his ear, "See? I told you, it's him."

She pointed at the white-haired Hobbit with the shaky but still energetic voice. The piece of paper in his hands looked much too big for his tiny figure and his hairy feet were dangling halfway between the seat of his chair and the marble floor, but he seemed in his element and every inch of him reflected his pride in his work. Next to him they could see another halfling, younger and looking very pale and weak. He had only awoken that same morning and Tauriel could not help being impressed by his quick recovery after such a substantial injury.

Legolas threw a sceptical glance at the halflings. "Are you sure?" he asked. "He looks very different. But, well, I suppose that's natural."

Tauriel just opened her mouth to tell him about an earlier conversation she had had with Master Bilbo, when she was interrupted by an all too familiar voice calling her name. "Yes, my lord?" she managed to answer without letting her reluctance shine through.

Glorfindel came towards them, exchanged a polite greeting with Legolas and addressed Tauriel, "I must say I am relieved to see you here tonight. How are you feeling?"

Tauriel stared at him in astonishment. He had never given an Orc's toenail about her well-being before and she had never wished for his personal concern. "I am well, thank you," she gave back hesitantly, scanning his face for an explanation to his unusual behaviour.

He simplified her endeavour by pointing out, "It has been a while since you faced the two Black Riders and we have spoken since then, but it was only today that I learned from one of the soldiers of your unit how close you really came to them. He told me in much more detail than you how your unit fought them off and which crucial role you played in the undertaking. If I can trust his words – and I have for a thousand years – you understated your own achievement a great deal in your report to me."

Tauriel did not know where to look or what to say. Now that he had mentioned it, she realised that she might indeed have been quite unspecific about the exact happenings at the crossroads, but for what it was worth, modesty had not been among the reasons. First of all, she had been tired and distracted and not in the mood to talk to him longer than necessary, and second, she was not accustomed to bragging about her own deeds because in the Woodland Realm everyone already knew what she was capable of.

She glanced at Legolas, who was obviously torn between approval and amusement. At last she replied to Glorfindel, "My lord, I am honoured by your praise." She hoped that this would make him drop the subject, but she was mistaken.

"I imagine their presence was not easy for you to bear, being so young and never having been exposed to such influences before," he went on. "Besides, I have found the Silvans to be somewhat less resistant to the forces of evil than other Eldar." There it was at last, the usual not so well hidden affront to her heritage. Only this time it did not seem to be intended, judging by his face. Maybe he simply could not help it.

"So, if you need some time off duty to recover, I fully understand," he finally spilt out the point of the whole conversation. "Although I would be pleased to see you after tomorrow's council meeting and hear how your Woodland soldiers deal with the infestation of Greenwood."

Tauriel almost choked on her own breath. Someone seemed to have undergone a thorough change of mind. 'Thank Eru for that blabbermouth of a soldier,' she stated to herself and to him she added as professionally as she could, "It would be my pleasure."

After that Lord Glorfindel wished Tauriel and Legolas a pleasant evening, reminded the prince to be punctual for the council meeting the next morning and vanished in the crowd, leaving the captain to her astonishment.

Legolas gave her a grin. "May I assume that this was not how he used to treat you during the last weeks?"

"You bet," Tauriel grumbled and rolled her eyes. "He isn't a bad person, I guess, only far too convinced of his own superiority over absolutely everyone around him – maybe except Lord Elrond and Lord Erestor. He isn't even wrong, after the whole Balrog story and all the other things he achieved. I mean, elflings learn about his deeds at school." She paused, only to add under her breath, "Still, sometimes all I want is to poison his wine with a laxative."

Legolas chuckled and affirmed, "Trust me, everyone feels that way. I have even heard Lord Elrond talk less than kindly about him, and that certainly means something. Glorfindel simply doesn't give his respect away for free, people have to earn it. And I think you just did." Legolas smiled at Tauriel, causing her to grin back at him against her will.

They could have gone on evaluating Lord Glorfindel's doubtful virtues, but they were interrupted again, this time by someone Tauriel had heard a lot about and caught occasional glimpses of, but who had never spoken to her before.

"Look who we have here, my favourite Woodland prince and his fearless captain," Lady Arwen addressed both of them with an ironic smile but in a friendly tone. She had left her father's side after Bilbo's poem had ended and was now assessing Legolas and Tauriel quizzically.

"My lady," Tauriel greeted her with a bow of her head. Legolas mirrored her gesture, only with a smirk.

"With 'fearless captain' I shall agree, but to what do I owe the unprecedented honour of being your favourite all of a sudden?" he gave back, while Tauriel started feeling a little out of place.

Arwen rolled her eyes as gracefully as that gesture could possibly be executed and turned to Tauriel. "You see, the prince and I have our little quarrels, as I am sure he has told you." With that came a glare of pretended annoyance in Legolas' direction. "But I hope it will not compromise your opinion of me. I have wanted to get to know you for long, Captain Tauriel, and I ask your forgiveness for being such a negligent host until now."

Tauriel gulped and felt her cheeks flush. "I assure you, there is nothing to forgive," she stammered and wanted to choke Legolas for chuckling at her embarrassment.

"It is fascinating to meet a female warrior," Arwen went on. "In Imladris, as well as everywhere else I have been, this would be a most extraordinary notion."

"Worst possible subject," Tauriel heard Legolas mutter and gently nudged him in the ribs to silence him, but unfortunately Arwen had heard him.

"Oh, I see," the lady corrected herself, "I can understand that it must be tiresome to hear people mention your gender more often than your achievements. In fact, I was merely going to express my sincerest admiration for a society where that sort of thing is possible." She smiled kindly, which made Tauriel relax a bit.

"In the Woodland Realm we cannot allow ourselves to turn down a capable warrior just because she happens to be an elleth," she pointed out, feeling more confident while talking about this familiar topic. "Besides, I have always believed that a lady should be able to defend herself if necessary. Usually an enemy does not stop and ask about your skills with blade and bow before attacking you."

Arwen let out a short laugh. "Indeed you are right. I admit that I myself have been very negligent in that particular field. Perhaps I should ask my brothers to assist me in correcting this deficiency, although my father would most likely be less than thrilled."

She cast a short look at Lord Elrond and his entourage. "But I will not keep you from the festivities any longer," she added. "I hope we will find another opportunity to converse before you return to your home, Captain Tauriel." With that she took her leave, but not without whispering to Legolas in passing by, "Congratulations on your excellent taste, but I fear your father will kill you."

Tauriel was shocked for a moment, but she managed to maintain her neutral expression. Obviously Arwen had not even intended to let her little remark go unheard by Tauriel, judging by the conspiratorial grin she threw at her.

Legolas raised an eyebrow and simply retaliated, "Look who's talking! Where is he, anyway?" Tauriel did not quite understand what he was referring to, but apparently Arwen did. She only shook her head, mumbled something about her brothers and some important news they had brought from the North and set off in direction of her father.

When she was out of earshot, Tauriel whispered to Legolas, "What was that about? You did not actually tell her about us, did you? And who were you talking about when…"

He interrupted her by waving his hand. "No, I didn't tell her, she's just a good judge of character. What did you expect of Lady Galadriel's granddaughter? As for the other thing…" He came closer to her and continued very quietly, "You remember the Adan who brought Gollum to us, don't you?"

Tauriel nodded, waiting for further elaboration, but Legolas did not say anything more. After a few seconds the implication dawned on her and she gave him a wide-eyed look of disbelief. "Are you serious?"

Legolas nodded. "Don't even ask me… She's determined to give up the gift of the Valar and pledge herself to him. I guess if I told my father about her choice, he would suddenly see you in a much more favourable light."

"Probably," Tauriel agreed quietly, letting her eyes follow Lady Arwen through the crowd. Truth be told, it made her a little sad to imagine this wise, kind and graceful elleth renouncing eternal life and dwelling among the Edain, only to watch her beloved die after a painfully short time and be left to grief and fading. She asked the Valar to bless Lady Arwen's path, wherever it might lead.

"I shouldn't have told you that," Legolas interrupted her thoughts. "I didn't intend to mar your mood when there is already more than enough to worry about. What do you say, shall we leave all these people to their celebration and take a walk? Maybe we'll find another fountain."

Tauriel managed to smile at him. "That would be lovely. Well, except the part with the fountain. I've already counted fourteen."

* * *

><p>"You did what?" Tauriel heard herself exclaim. She had to grab hold of the pillar next to her in order to stay upright. As a matter of fact Legolas had to be jesting, although it was certainly not a very funny joke to tell her that he wanted to join the halfling on his quest to destroy the ring.<p>

Almost two months had passed since the council meeting where the identity of that tiny yet so dangerous item had been clarified and the two young Hobbits had offered to undertake the suicidal journey. In fact, Tauriel did not even know why she was still in Imladris, but Legolas kept telling her that they would delay their return to Greenwood until the definite modalities of the quest would be decided. The captain's patience was growing thin, not only because winter was approaching with quick steps and travelling through ice and snow was not the most agreeable idea she could think of. But again, she resolved that Legolas certainly had his reasons.

Now he was standing beside her on the small balcony belonging to his chamber, eyed her worriedly and preferred not to repeat his statement. Tauriel took a deep breath and arched an eyebrow at him. "You're joking, right? Please tell me this is just a very cruel way of scaring me." Her voice was trembling and she cursed herself for getting so worked up about this silly notion, but something in Legolas' expression told her that he might actually be serious.

He stepped closer to her and touched her hand lightly. The little gesture was enough for Tauriel to understand. She bit her lip, unable to find words to express what she was feeling. Legolas remained silent, giving her time to collect herself. At last she managed to look at him, feeling a sting right through her heart.

He tightened his grip around her hand and confirmed, "It is decided. Lord Elrond asked for nine companions to oppose the nine Black Riders. I volunteered as a representative of the Eldar. Aragorn and Boromir are coming too, as well as Gimli the Dwarf, all four of the halflings and fortunately Mithrandir. We will leave a week from today."

Tauriel gulped and tried to wrap her mind around what she had just heard. "You're going to Mordor," she finally whispered. "Haven't you spent the last weeks reading all those books about the last war against Sauron? Why would you… What if… What if you don't return?" By speaking the words, Tauriel fully realised their meaning. She felt her stomach cramp and her heart started pounding.

"I thought you of all people would understand," Legolas tried carefully. "I can't sit around and do nothing while the fate of all the Free Peoples of Arda is being decided. You once asked me a question on the rocks above the river bend in Greenwood: You asked me if we were not part of this world. It took me a while to find my answer, but now I finally have. Meleth nín, please, look at me – this is the only honourable thing for me to do and I know you would do the same in my place."

Tauriel could not work up the strength to reply, so all she did was pull him close and hold him as tight as possible, as if that could prevent all the evil in the world from harming him. After a while she whispered, "Of course I understand. Even though your father is going to butcher me when I bring him the news. But don't you dare get yourself killed or I will follow you to the Halls of Mandos and… Oh, never mind, just try to come back."

"I will do my best," he affirmed, stroking the back of her head. His lips found hers and she felt his arms around her, barely leaving her enough room to breathe, but she did not mind. All she hoped was for this moment never to end.


	30. Green Holly

"With all due respect, my lord, they are Woodland soldiers and as such they are not under your command!" Tauriel made an effort not to clench her fists and glared at Glorfindel with as much determination as she could muster. The five Woodland guards who had arrived with Legolas stood in a half circle, looking awkwardly in every direction but Glorfindel's. The sand on the ground and the carved pillars around the training yard seemed to fascinate them immensely.

Tauriel could not blame them, given Lord Glorfindel's intimidating presence and his idea of using them to reinforce his own patrol units. How dare he! Not to mention that he had not dropped a single word about his plan to her in advance!

"We are leaving in five days," she pointed out. "It would not be worth the trouble. Besides, we agreed on exchanging our respective strategies and fighting techniques, and I can hardly instruct your soldiers all by myself, can I?" She nodded towards the substantial assembly of Imladris guards filling almost a third of the large training yard and glancing curiously at their commander and the foreign officers.

She was surprised how many had come to this voluntary lesson in two-handed dagger fighting she had scheduled. Last month's training session concerning the most efficient ways of slaying giant spiders had been more of an improvisation – after all it was unlikely for most of the soldiers to ever come across a giant spider – and yet the participation had been fairly high. Now, however, there were about twice as many people as last time. Tauriel suspected that most of them were not quite as interested in the art of wielding daggers as they were in seeing the strange forest people demonstrate their savage ways of fighting. She suppressed a sigh – she and her comrades were still a true curiosity in Imladris, or else all those soldiers would not have bothered coming to the lesson during their free time. Of course Lord Glorfindel had refused to dispense anyone from duty for that purpose – so why, by the Valar, should Tauriel agree to lend him the services of her guards?

She glanced at him and noticed that his lips tightened for an instant. Even after all the months that he had spent with her, he still got irritated whenever she contradicted him. 'You'll be rid of me soon enough,' she thought to herself and stared at him without moving one muscle.

"Very well," he gave in begrudgingly, most likely because he did not want to risk the disgrace of an open argument under the critical eyes of half his subordinates. "May I ask what is on the schedule today?"

"Two-handed dagger fighting," Tauriel informed him and unsheathed her blades for emphasis. Glorfindel rolled his eyes.

"Eru, have mercy!" he contributed most helpfully. "Whatever our esteemed Captain of the Woodland Guard deems useful. I am not required to watch this spectacle, am I?"

"Not at all," Tauriel gave back with the sweetest smile her face could produce. He gave her a polite nod and did not tarry another second before hurrying off as far away from Tauriel, her daggers and her Woodland soldiers as he possibly could.

She followed him with her eyes until he vanished behind a neatly clipped hedge of juniper. A smirk spread over her face. She and Glorfindel would probably never be the best of friends, but for some reason she felt an odd kind of sympathy for that conceited, high and mighty, Balrog-slaying remainder of the Elder Days. At least he had started acknowledging her skill to a certain degree, which meant a lot, given that from his perspective she was nothing but a little wildling from a dark forest somewhere in the North. She shook her head and grinned to herself while turning back to her guards. "Shall we get started?" she asked and received five nods.

They divided the participants into six groups and began by checking if everyone had two appropriate blades at their disposal. This turned out to be a challenge because the concept of wielding twin daggers was uncommon in Imladris and therefore no such weapons were forged. The soldiers had brought blades of all sizes and shapes from simple hunting knives to slightly shorter than usual swords.

Tauriel resolved that she had to work with whatever she could get and started explaining and demonstrating the most common manoeuvres that could be executed with two daggers, while simultaneously observing her group of about ten people.

Most of the faces were familiar to her by now. However, there was one participant who caught her attention, standing a little aside with his completely inappropriate Gondorian longsword and a grumpy expression on his bearded face. From Legolas' account, she vaguely recalled that his name was Boromir and that he would be among the Ring-bearer's company. He glanced at the entrance of the training yard every now and then, as if he was waiting for someone.

She could not help getting a strange feeling from looking at him. He seemed troubled, burdened even, as though the weight of great responsibility and fear lay on his shoulders. No wonder, she thought. Having spent all his life at the doorstep of Mordor, he had probably seen more evil than he should have in the few years of his mortal life.

Tauriel forced her eyes away from him and focussed on the task at hand. She had just started explaining the basic principles of balancing a dagger, as opposed to a longsword, when the sound of quiet but hasty footsteps and low muttering made her turn around.

Three of the young halflings were approaching her – she could not quite distinguish them, but the Ring-bearer was not among them. Each of them was holding a short knife and they looked expectantly back and forth between Tauriel and Boromir.

"Sorry we're late," the tallest one of them said with a death glare at one of his companions. "We had to wait for Pippin to find his blade."

The one in question shook his head eagerly and addressed Boromir, "I only took my time because I thought you would wait for us." The Gondorian just frowned and tried to hold back a grin.

The third Hobbit, who looked the least eager to try his hand in combat, mumbled almost apologetically, "I told them we would be late, but no one would listen to me. As for the fighting, I'd only like to watch at first, if I may, because the others just dragged me along and…"

"Guess who else," it came from Boromir, accompanied by a sarcastic grimace.

Tauriel assessed the newly arrived aspiring warriors from head to toe – which did not require her eyes to travel far – and concluded that they had more cause than anyone to take a swordplay lesson or two. "Come and join us!" she invited them into her own group, watching as they scurried towards the obviously amused soldiers. "As I was saying…"

The lesson turned out to be quite successful, given the mostly inadequate weapons and the very mixed audience. The Imladris guards took it as a piece of additional yet not very applicable information, although they ended up mastering the basic manoeuvres Tauriel introduced in almost no time.

Boromir had shown some reluctance to exchange his sword for any other weapon, so Tauriel had simply appointed him as an opponent to one of the Eldar in order to show the differences between one-handed and two-handed swordplay. For an Adan, he was a master of his art, she noticed with certain relief.

For the Hobbits it took a little more than good will and two hours of practice to get accustomed to their weapons. Tauriel did not require them to use two blades, after seeing that one alone proved to be most challenging to them. However, the two of them who had expressed an interest in fighting made considerable progress in slicing their clothes and causing each other to trip over their own feet. The third Hobbit – Tauriel thought she remembered him to be named Samwise – stayed aside the entire time, cheering for his friends once in a while but mostly watching quietly and looking rather miserable.

When Tauriel ended the lesson, gathered all the groups and thanked everyone for their effort, she could not see him in the crowd anymore. After shortly discussing the results of the training with her Woodland guards, she decided to find him because it worried her to see the poor fellow so distressed.

She knew he was very fond of the little horse he had brought to Imladris, so she took her chances and directed her steps to the stables. Indeed, after searching for a short while and being sniffed by several horses in the hope of receiving a treat from her, she found the Hobbit sitting on a heap of straw with his back to her, facing his pony, which was chewing contently on a carrot its master had just fed it.

Tauriel stayed still for a moment, contemplating the peaceful image. It was the little details of everyday life, such as this Shireling stroking his horse and mumbling gentle words into its ear, that reminded her of how drastically everything was soon going to change.

"Captain Tauriel," he suddenly said in a welcoming tone without turning around.

She wondered, but she approached him and sat down next to him on the heap of straw, asking, "How did you know it was me?"

The Hobbit gave her an awkward look, obviously regretting he had said her name at all. "Just a guess, really. It's… well, I don't want to insult you."

Now Tauriel got even more curious. She raised an eyebrow and probed on, "Go on, I would really like to know! No need to worry, I can take a lot."

He hesitated another moment, biting his lip, but then he blurted, "It's the way you smell."

"Excuse me?" Tauriel asked, mildly shocked.

"You smell of leaves and moss and wood," the Hobbit hurried to explain. "It's like walking through a forest after a rainfall. It's… quite nice, actually. None of the Elves of Rivendell smell like that."

A grin curled Tauriel's lips. "I have never paid much attention to what my kinsmen smell like, but I suppose it's natural to carry your home within you in some way. Is it not, Master Gamgee?" She looked over to him and detected a tiny smile on his face.

"Most certainly," he affirmed. "I can't wait to go back to the Shire, to be honest." He produced another carrot from his pocket and held it out for the pony.

Tauriel watched the little horse happily devouring the vegetable, before she stated casually, "You did not seem to share your friends' eagerness in learning to fight." She reached forward to pet the pony's neck, giving the Hobbit enough time to come up with an answer.

"I'm a gardener, not a warrior," he finally admitted in a rather discouraged voice. "I like to see things grow, you know. I don't think I have it in me to fight."

"No one does, but when the need comes, most will find their courage," Tauriel tried to comfort him, although she understood perfectly well how the poor little fellow was feeling.

He gave her a bitter smile. "I assume it didn't take a lot for you to find yours."

"I didn't have a choice," Tauriel answered accurately. "The first time I shot a living being was in order to save my dearest friend." She remembered the summer night on the rocks above the river, where Legolas had taken her to see fireflies but they had ended up encountering spiders. If only those were still the only dangers they had to face – then they would at least be able to protect each other.

Master Samwise threw a quick glance at her and mumbled, "To tell the truth, it was quite scary to watch you fight just now. It almost reminded me of the wild creatures from dark, haunted forests in the stories that Bilbo used to tell us as children." When she looked at him in astonishment, he quickly added, "In the best possible sense, I mean."

Tauriel could not help but laugh, making the pony side-eye her and a few of the other horses turn their heads curiously. She shrugged and admitted, "I am a wild creature and my forest is the darkest and most haunted you could ever imagine. Not all of us have the luxury of a safe and comfortable home. Still, I would lay down my life to protect mine." It was as simple as this, nothing heroic about it.

Samwise took a while to answer, then he said quietly, "So would I. But I'm afraid I won't be of any use if things ever come to such an ending. I can grow flowers and vegetables, and cook a good meal, but I don't think that would impress a Dark Lord, would it?"

'Nor would an army of ten thousand,' she thought to herself, trying not to get carried away by hopelessness again. She contemplated the Hobbit, imagining him in his garden. That was where he belonged and certainly not on the road to Mordor – just like Legolas or any other one of the companions. "The Eldar say that those who have the gift of preserving life should not enter a battlefield because it would corrupt their ability to nurture and heal," she remarked, not knowing why she said such a thing to him at all while he was already troubled.

"Do you think that's true?" he wanted to know, looking at her as if she was the highest authority on elven lore he had ever met. It was the strangest thought, but to this halfling from the West all Eldar had to appear wise, even the ones who were regarded as quite the opposite by their own kin.

"I believe that the Valar never burden us with more than we can bear and that we grow with every challenge we face," she concluded. It sounded like something Nimiel would say and Tauriel was not sure she believed it herself.

Nevertheless, the Hobbit gave her a weak smile and replied, "I do hope you're right."

He fiddled around in his pocket and a third carrot appeared. The pony eyed it expectantly, but Samwise handed it to Tauriel. "Do you want to give it to him? I think old Bill likes you."

Surprised and a little flattered, she took the vegetable from him and held it out to the pony on her flat hand. The animal accepted her gift gratefully.

"You know," she addressed the halfling after the carrot had vanished between the pony's teeth, "I think you have great strength and more courage than many a warrior I have seen. You left your home, you faced the dangers of the road and the henchmen of evil, and you never abandoned your friend. You even chose to follow him on his next journey without ever questioning your loyalty to him. True courage does not always need a sword." She could see his face lighten up a little.

"I reckon you and your prince have been through many adventures together," he suddenly stated.

Tauriel gulped, feeling a sting in her chest. "We have, although not all of them were heroic or even worth telling," she affirmed. "I cannot follow him on this one though."

"I will try and protect him on your behalf," the Hobbit said. Although his tone was full of irony and bitterness, his eyes gave away the sincerity of his intent. He was right, she thought. This gardener from the Shire, who had never wielded a weapon in his life, had just as good a chance of coming through the quest alive as Legolas or anyone else.

"Thank you, Master Samwise," she answered. "He can be honoured to have you as a companion."

* * *

><p>Legolas glanced around sceptically – these were four of the people who would go on the quest with him and he was not sure whether he liked the idea or not. They were assembled in Lord Elrond's library, discussing the route for the first stage of their journey. Aragorn kept trying to convince the others to take the pass of Caradhras, whereas Boromir insisted on going through the Gap of Rohan, as he had taken that way to come to Imladris. Gimli, who was already grumpy enough because Lindir had forbidden him to smoke his Eru-forsaken pipe in the library, would not stop muttering about the advantages of passing through the mines of Moria instead. Mithrandir was strangely quiet, pretending to be absorbed in an old book on his lap, but Legolas could see his eyes wandering back and forth between the two Edain and the Dwarf from time to time.<p>

The prince himself had decided not to take part in the quarrel of his mortal companions. As long as the Dwarf did not win the argument, anything was fine with him. He would not be particularly pleased to walk through the endless dark of Moria, given that there were more than enough horrible tales about the dangers lurking beneath that mountain.

"I have been there before," Aragorn argued, "Caradhras is our best chance. Every other route would take far too long." The Adan did have something kingly about him, Legolas could not deny that. However, Gimli did not seem too impressed.

"If you fancy climbing rocks covered in tons and tons of snow, that is!" he grumbled. "In Moria we will be welcomed by my cousin Balin. We will have food and a place to sleep and my kin will show us the shortest and safest way through the mines."

"Assuming they still dwell there. Was not the lack of news from Moria one of your reasons to come here?" Aragorn interjected in an undertone that caused Gimli to reach for his axe – only he did not have it with him, for which Legolas was most grateful. The Dwarf gave the Dúnadan a glare and sunk back in his chair.

Boromir took his chance to weigh in, "My friends, it has not been long since I passed through the Gap of Rohan. The people there are our allies…"

"Are they still?" That was Aragorn again. He continued gracing his fellow with a row of reasons why the Rohirrim should not be trusted blindly anymore, given the influence of the corrupted Istar Saruman, but Legolas' brain refused to take in the words. He had heard them too often, as this kind of argument had been repeated lots of times before without a result. The Woodland prince rose from his chair, answered the surprised looks of his companions with a polite nod and a mumbled "Excuse me" and left the library.

The cold December air and the sunlight from the cloudless sky helped him clear his thoughts. He took a deep breath and let his eyes wander across the empty courtyard. Suddenly he felt stupid and very out of line for just getting up and leaving in the middle of a discussion that concerned him as much as the others. During the last few days he had felt an increasing annoyance whenever a quarrel such as this one had occurred between them, although he was well aware that these differences needed to be resolved before the journey. The true reason for his irritation was the fact that through spending time with his companions he became more and more aware of what lay ahead of him. It scared him – not only for himself but for all his companions, as well as for the people he left behind and basically for the entire world he knew.

There were still four days left until their scheduled departure and the worst part of all was the waiting. He spent as much time as he could with Tauriel, and although he enjoyed every minute she was near him, the knowledge of embarking on a suicidal quest while leaving her behind to face a no less dangerous future made his stomach cramp every time he thought about it.

"Legolas!" a friendly voice interrupted his thoughts. He spun around and stared into Lord Elrond's smiling but always sorrowful face.

"My lord," Legolas gave back and bowed his head. Since his early youth, he had never abandoned this gesture of respect towards his former mentor.

With an investigative glance the master of Imladris observed, "You look troubled."

'Oh, do I indeed?' Legolas' mind responded sarcastically, but of course he would never have voiced such a discourteous thought. He gave back, "It is nothing, just the inevitable and obvious. I'm starting to realise the implications of my foolish choice." He let out a half-hearted chuckle.

"You call it foolish while others might call it brave," Lord Elrond pointed out as enigmatically as always.

Legolas gave him a doubtful look. "They may call it whatever they want, it does not change the fact that all nine of us are terrified. Some may not admit it and every one of us deals with it differently, but I can tell that all of them share my own concerns."

Without so much of an answer, Elrond signalled Legolas to follow him across the courtyard. The prince obliged him, until they reached the entrance of the living quarters. Elrond opened the door and entered, followed by Legolas. The lord directed his steps to his study and invited Legolas inside. He offered him to take a seat, but the prince declined politely, feeling too restless. Instead he stepped to the window and contemplated the river deep down in the valley.

Elrond started stirring the embers in the fireplace with an iron poker and remarked almost casually, "I daresay it is better to be afraid than to be imprudent – a lesson I learned from your father, by the way, a long time ago."

"That certainly sounds like him," the prince affirmed a little too dryly.

Elrond joined him at the window and looked straight into his eyes when he inquired, "Why did you decide to go to Mordor?"

Legolas glanced at him in surprise. He had asked himself that question often enough, but he had not expected Elrond to do so. "To do honourably by the Free Peoples of Arda," he replied out of a reflex, but Elrond's critical glance told him that he would not content himself with that, so Legolas added more hesitantly, "I feel the obligation to contribute something as a representative of the Woodland Realm. We have been hiding in our caves for far too long, often ignoring the needs of our neighbours. When my father decided to fight at the gates of Erebor sixty years ago, I realised that this was the more painful but also the more righteous way. He is a good king who cares for his people and wants to protect them by shielding them from the eyes of the world, but we can no longer pretend to be safe if the lands around us descend into darkness."

To Legolas' astonishment, Elrond smiled at him. "You may not believe it, but when I first met your father during the War of the Last Alliance, he thought and spoke exactly like you. He was eager to rid the world of evil and he threw himself and his soldiers into battle with such idealism that it doubled the courage of those who witnessed it. He would not get disheartened by defeat, not even by the terrible injuries he suffered. It was after the victory, on seeing what price his people had paid for the freedom of the world, that he decided never to expose them to such danger again. It is not ignorance or a cold heart, Legolas, that governs your father's decisions."

"I know it is not," the prince gave back, trying to suppress the feeling of guilt that wanted to overcome him on thinking about how shocked his father would be when he heard of Legolas' choice.

Elrond gave him an encouraging nod. "I am glad you are with the company. And as for Thranduil, I am sure he will be proud of you – at some point." Legolas smirked involuntarily.

"You have been to Mordor and you have faced the evil there," he said after a short pause. "Is there any advice you would give me and my companions so shortly before our journey starts? Anything to make us feel a little less lost and clueless?"

The lord took his time to reply, obviously trying to find the appropriate words, but in the end he answered, "The only advice I have for you is to finish any unresolved issues you may have, as far as that is possible. I can imagine it must be a heavy burden to carry unsaid words and unanswered questions all the way to Mordor."

Legolas wondered for a moment, but he understood Elrond's point. Unsaid words and unanswered questions could indeed weigh heavily on one's shoulders. Only he did not have any such issues, so the kind advice was probably in vain. Except – Legolas frowned without noticing. Perhaps there was one question he needed to get off his chest before his departure. "I thank you for your kind words and your patience with a reluctant adventurer," he managed to say before taking his leave of Lord Elrond maybe a little too hurriedly.

* * *

><p>Tauriel glanced down at her daggers with a frown – they did look rather worn out and were in desperate need of sharpening before the Woodland soldiers would start their return journey in three days. She had finished her duties and there was still some time to fill until she had promised to meet Legolas, so she went to the armoury to get a whetstone.<p>

When she entered the ample room full of nicely polished weapons and pieces or armour, she realised she was not alone. The ginger-haired Dwarf from Erebor, member of the Ring-bearer's company, was sitting on one of many wooden boxes in a corner of the room, a bucket of water between his feet, and applying the same treatment to his enormous axe that Tauriel had in mind for her blades. He looked strangely out of place among all the elven battle equipment and she had to make an effort to suppress a grin.

She stopped, but then she resolved that it could not hurt to get to know another one of Legolas' companions and approached him. When he became aware of her presence, he looked up at her for a moment, then his eyes returned to his weapon and a low grumble escaped him.

"Good evening," Tauriel tried her luck anyway. "May I join you?"

He glared at her. "Can't you find another place to play your harp and write your poems, Master Elf?"

Tauriel had to blink a few times and tilted her head in astonishment. "I assure you, my ability in playing the harp is even more negligible than my rhyming skills," she gave back. "And did you just call me 'Master'?"

"What? Is that considered inappropriate among your folk?" the Dwarf grumbled without looking at her, obviously unaware of the mistake he had made.

Tauriel swallowed her amused bewilderment and pointed out nonchalantly, "It rather is for women."

At least now the Dwarf interrupted his work for a second or two and assessed her sceptically from beneath his bushy eyebrows. "Hmm," was his eloquent answer. When Tauriel did not bat an eye, he added reluctantly, "It's hard enough to tell you people apart as it is. With that soldier's gear of yours you can't expect people to…"

"It's quite all right!" she interrupted him and introduced herself with a short bow according to the Dwarven custom. "Tauriel, Captain of the Woodland Guard, at your service."

"Gimli son of Glóin at yours," it came back grumpily, followed by an expression that gave away something that could best be described as less than pleased recognition. Tauriel suspected that his father, who was in Imladris as well, probably remembered the captain and had described the Woodland dungeons to Gimli in the most vivid shades of black.

"I hear you will accompany Mr Baggins on his quest," she tried to redirect the rather one-sided conversation while looking for another whetstone on a shelf full of tools.

The Dwarf graced her with his usual grumble, making her feel a little annoyed for the first time. She was trying to be polite – her effort should at least be recognised!

"I am sorry, have I offended you?" she blurted. "Because if that is the case, it was involuntary and I offer you my apologies." It came out more aggressively than the words suggested, causing the Dwarf to tighten his grip around his axe.

"You did not offer my father and his company your apologies when you let them rot in your dungeons," he finally spilt out his reason for rejecting her attempts of socialising. As much as she would have liked to get to know him, that much narrow-mindedness was too pathetic even for her taste.

"Neither did they offer us their thanks when we fought and died for their cause before the gates of Erebor," Tauriel spat back at him, being rewarded with icy silence. "I wish you a good day, Master Gimli," she said in her most professional tone, before she added a little more warmly, "May the Valar protect your journey." With that she turned on her heels, deciding that her daggers could wait one more day to be sharpened.

"You knew Fíli and Kíli, didn't you?" the Dwarf's voice stopped her halfway to the door. She turned back to him with a questioning expression on her face.

He had put down his axe and tried hard to look and sound friendly when he explained, "My uncle Óin told me that you saved Kíli's life and…" There he paused, glancing awkwardly at the tips of his boots. As happy as it made Tauriel to hear that Óin held her in high enough regards to tell his nephew about her, she already suspected what else the old gossip might have said about her connection to Kíli.

"I only knew them a little," she replied truthfully, "Kíli more than Fíli. Were they relatives of yours?"

Gimli nodded, now looking far more relaxed. "Aye, distant ones. But I was very fond of them." A flicker of warmth appeared on his face, followed by a regretful frown.

"I am sorry for your loss," Tauriel stated a little helplessly.

"I was only a young lad back then, but I would have come on the journey myself if I had been a few years older," Gimli pointed out, before he suddenly seemed to realise that he was about to engage in a friendly conversation with an Elf who had once imprisoned his father. He stopped, but to Tauriel's great surprise he did not return to his dismissive attitude. Instead he pulled another wooden box out of the corner and gestured towards the shelf Tauriel had already been searching. "There are more whetstones in that basket on the left. Take a seat if you want." The captain was more than happy to oblige him.

* * *

><p>The river was murmuring a sad tale of ancient times and the breath of the two Eldar formed white clouds in the cold air. It was the evening before their departure – Tauriel and her Woodland guards would leave in the morning and Legolas' company at dusk. He felt strangely calm so shortly before the beginning of the quest. A veil of overwhelming confusion was covering his fear.<p>

Tauriel was silently contemplating the steady movement of the water in the last evening light. A strand of her hair had got caught in the branches of a holly tree. Legolas untangled it and put his arm around her. "Your thoughts seem far away," he said and kissed her temple. "Where are they travelling, if I may inquire?"

"Here and there," she answered vaguely and smiled, resting her head on his shoulder. He breathed in the scent of her hair and let his hand wander up and down her back, trying to conserve every little memory of her.

Suddenly she straightened up and faced him. "Will you promise me to be careful?" she asked. "Please don't try to reason with Trolls again or climb trees that move or accidentally wake up a dragon – can you promise to refrain from that sort of thing?" Her face was absolutely serious and Legolas could not help but chuckle.

"I promise, meleth nín. But maybe I would remember more easily if you gave me a little additional motivation." He tried to sound confident, but the slight rasping in his voice betrayed him. 'Don't take any unanswered questions on your journey!' he repeated to himself silently.

Tauriel looked up at him in surprise. "How would I do that?"

The pause that followed was far too long for Legolas' own taste. He breathed in deeply and started, "Tauriel, I need to ask you something. I know the circumstances are very inconvenient and rather disgraceful, to be honest, but I'm going to do it anyway…" For some reason her curious look encouraged and disheartened him at the same time, but he forced himself to continue, "Assuming we both come through whatever lies ahead of us and the world is still worth living in afterwards – will you take my hand in marriage when I return?"

There was no word in the tongues of Eldar, Edain or Dwarves that could have captured the look on Tauriel's face and the silence that suddenly seemed to befall the entire world around them. She just stared at him while he counted the seconds, or rather centuries, that passed without any reaction of hers.

When he could not take it any longer, he began to ramble cluelessly, "You can remain a warrior or try to become a lady, whatever you prefer, and I daresay my father will not appear too intimidating anymore if we survive the threat of Mordor. We don't even have to stay in Greenwood – by the Valar, I will build us a hut on top of the Lonely Mountain or in the deserts of Harad if that's what it takes for us to be together…"

"You could at least pick a nicer spot," Tauriel interrupted him, giving him the opportunity to breathe again.

He needed a moment to process her words, but then he saw the smile on her face and dared to ask, "So, is that a yes?"

"It is," she simply gave back, taking both his hands.

They stood immobile for a good while, silently looking at each other, before Tauriel brought her face close to his and whispered, "You better come back alive. I would hate it if some Dark Lord ruined my wedding." She rolled her eyes and giggled, but Legolas silenced her by brushing his thumb over her lips.

"And I would hate it if some Orcs or spiders did," he reminded her in all sincerity, obtaining a reassuring nod. He pulled her close and kissed her, slowly realising that Tauriel had just become his betrothed. No more unanswered questions – but suddenly there were so many more unsaid words and a whole new unfinished story.

When they broke apart, Legolas admitted, "I can't even put a ring on your finger, so may Yavanna forgive me for doing this instead." He reached for the holly tree, broke off a small twig with a few red berries and placed it in her hair.

Tauriel smiled and replied, "Neither can I, nor do I have a mother present who could put a jewel around your neck, so may Ulmo forgive me for stealing a less noble substitute for you." She took a few steps towards the water, picked up a pebble and handed it to him with an almost apologetic look.

There they were, Tauriel with a spiky twig in her hair and Legolas holding a wet stone, miles and miles away from their home and soon about to face unprecedented dangers, and yet neither of them could have wished to be anywhere else in that moment.


	31. Grey Rocks

It was dark, it was cold and the general mood among the company was miserable – Legolas could have thought of at least a dozen more agreeable journeys he had undertaken, and being from Greenwood that meant a lot. They had been travelling for more than two weeks, crossing the eerie plains of Hollin where nothing was alive except the occasional flocks of crebain, which had most likely been spying on them on behalf of Eru knew which evil power. Now they were halfway up this mountain that was attempting to murder them with every snow avalanche and every icy breeze it threw at them. And what was worse – they were not even going upwards. They had resolved that it was an impossible endeavour and were now heading back down, so all the climbing and freezing had been for nothing.

Legolas wiped his eyes, but it did not improve his vision as much as he had hoped. He noticed with a mixture of annoyance and awe that his eyelashes were actually frozen. Whose brilliant idea had it been again to take the pass of Caradhras in the middle of January?

The Elda looked around; his companions were true pictures of misery. He had never really seen mortals travel through snow, so it had come as a bit of a surprise to him how much they struggled. They sank in as if walking through water and could hardly move forward at a measurable speed. Legolas pitied them, but on the other hand, as much as he reprimanded himself for it, he also got mildly impatient. The Edain were carrying two Hobbits each, which did not help the speed of the journey, but at least it prevented the halflings from being forgotten under a snowdrift, Legolas admitted.

Boromir, who was barely recognisable under the thick white layer that covered him, shouted at Aragorn's back for the fifth or sixth time, "We have to hurry or the Hobbits will freeze to death! I told you this route was a mistake!"

The other Adan stopped and turned around slowly. Neither his hood nor his snow-covered eyebrows were able to conceal his glare. "I never claimed it would be an easy way!" he shouted back. The answer came out somewhat choked with Frodo clinging to his throat. He turned back and continued working his way through the snow without another word.

Legolas decided to be helpful and approached Boromir while offering, "May I take one of your Hobbits?" It was the strangest thing he had ever heard himself say and he could not quite suppress his grin.

The Gondorian gave him a look almost as icy as the mountain and replied, "No, thank you, I'm perfectly able to carry them myself." He glanced at Aragorn, and Legolas suspected that he wanted to prove his strength in comparison to the Dúnadan.

"Very well," the prince muttered and left Boromir to his ungrateful task.

He did not even try to offer any help to the Dwarf, who was at the rear of the company, holding the reigns of the unfortunate pony the Hobbits had insisted on bringing. "Caradhras has not forgiven us," he muttered into his beard and shook his head. "Why did we have to go over the mountain instead of under it?" Legolas knew better than to request his share in that conversation.

He squeezed past his companions and approached Mithrandir – or Gandalf, as he had almost got used to calling him because all the others did – and suggested, "Couldn't you go before us with a bright flame and melt a path?"

The Istar arched an eyebrow and hummed, then he gave back, "Couldn't you fly over the mountain and fetch the sun to save us?" When Legolas was too stunned to think of an answer, Gandalf added, "I cannot burn snow or thin air, I must have something to work on."

In this case, the prince reasoned, what was the use in bringing a wizard at all? "Then why don't you…" he tried, but he was interrupted by Aragorn who advised him in Sindarin, "You know, maybe it would be a wise decision to be quiet for a while."

Legolas could not believe it! Had it not been Aragorn who had suggested this road in the first place? He of all people had no right to get cranky while all the others were suffering the consequences of his bad judgement! The prince let out a deep breath and shrugged. He was so incredibly done with all of this! If they wanted neither his help nor his council, so be it.

He watched for a while as Boromir and Aragorn, who had set down the Hobbits, struggled to force a path through the snow, but there was a point when he could not take it any longer. He thought of his old friend Galion back in Greenwood and his motto that helped him cope with King Thranduil's occasional mood swings: 'Bear it with a smile!'

So he gave Gandalf a smirk and said, "Farewell! As you requested, I'm going to find the sun." With that he was gone from their sight, asking all the Valar to grant him the mental strength and the unswerving serenity that would be necessary to endure the rest of the journey in a civil way.

* * *

><p>"My lord, I assure you Legolas joined the company of his own accord." Tauriel made a visible effort to keep her gaze fixed on the king instead of letting it trail off to the shelves and the fireplace in his study. Thranduil sat at his desk, immobile as a marble statue, and he guessed that he looked almost as pale as one too. He gulped, assessing Tauriel with an absent-minded glance. He could clearly see how distressed she was; however, his captain's discomfort was currently not among his most prominent concerns.<p>

Sauron was gathering his allies once again. The One Ring had been discovered and was being carried towards Orodruin to be destroyed, while Sauron's henchmen were spreading all over Arda. The fate of all Free Peoples was resting in the hands of a halfling from the West.

Thranduil could deal with all of that, as he had dealt with it once before, but there was one piece of news that made his hands tremble and his mind race around in useless circles: His son was on the way to Mordor. Tauriel had not really needed to tell him – as soon as he had seen her return without him, Thranduil had known where Legolas had gone.

He closed his eyes for a moment, but then he forced himself to look at the captain again and asked without caring about the answer, "I trust he would not listen to your objections?"

"No, my lord," Tauriel affirmed, shifting from one leg to the other. "He volunteered as soon as Lord Elrond requested to form a fellowship of nine." She bit her lip, apparently regretting she had brought up Elrond.

"I am going to kill that Eru-forsaken Peredhel," Thranduil muttered more to himself than to Tauriel, but she heard him anyway and looked away discreetly. He inquired, "When did they leave?"

"Twenty days ago," Tauriel replied, "the same day my party left Imladris. They were planning to pass through Hollin and cross the mountains at Caradhras…" She moved to a map of Arda on the wall and indicated the way by tracing a line with her finger, but the king did not pay attention. Tauriel got the hint and fell silent.

Thranduil forced himself to take a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. He had to be the king now, despite his overwhelming desire to be nothing but a worried father for once. He looked at his captain – a hard sight to bear when he had been used to seeing her in Legolas' company for many centuries – and stated, "If that was Legolas' decision, nothing can be done about it now. All we can do is hope and keep our own land safe as best we can."

He joined her at the map and explained, "There have been several minor intrusions by Orcs and Easterlings at the southern border. So far they have been harmless and could be driven back with ease, but vigilance is in order." Tauriel nodded, but her thoughts were obviously caught somewhere else and her face reflected her distress. "Have the lieutenants explain the details to you and make the necessary arrangements!" he demanded, making her assume a professional expression and bow her head.

"Yes, my lord," she answered half-heartedly and when he signalled her to leave she turned to the door.

When she was almost gone, Thranduil suddenly felt the necessity to address her again. "Tauriel," he said quietly, waiting for her to face him again, "we must not despair as long as all is not lost. Chances are he will return to us unharmed." She forced her mouth into a smile that did not reach her eyes. Thranduil added, "Have you not always been the one whose hope lasted throughout even the darkest times? Do not lose it now because I too am depending on it."

Tauriel's eyes widened for a moment and it was only then that Thranduil became aware of how personally he had just addressed his captain. He cleared his throat but still gave her another friendly look when he dismissed her.

As she closed the door, he covered his face with his hands and allowed himself a moment of desperation – probably the only one he could afford. After a while he breathed deeply and gathered all the strength he had. He rose and directed his steps to the door to follow the captain. He could not help his son through his journey, but he could protect the small piece of the world that he had been given to guard. If Mordor wanted a war, then a war it should get.

* * *

><p>If Legolas had thought that Caradhras was disagreeable, then he had clearly not foreseen the next stage of their journey. Passing over the mountain had not paid off well, so now the company would go underneath instead, more precisely through the infamous Mines of Moria. Legolas had heard tales of the horrors that lurked under the Mountains of Hithaeglir, with Goblins being the least alarming, and his stomach cramped at the thought of throwing himself and the company into such danger. However, they had not even found the entrance yet. Gandalf had told them to look for a large portal made of ithildin, but while scanning the grey rock wall for anything remotely alike to a door, Legolas once again doubted the infinite wisdom of the Istari.<p>

As expected, the Dwarf seemed to be the only one who rejoiced in the prospect of entering Moria. He was currently knocking his axe softly against the enormous stone walls and listening attentively. "Just what exactly are you doing?" Legolas asked him, being rewarded with an annoyed hiss.

"Sshh! I'm trying to find a cavity – what else does it look like?" Gimli gave back. "Dwarf-doors are not made to be seen when shut and their own masters cannot find them if their secret is forgotten." He said it in all sincerity, as if such folly was an achievement to be proud of, and Legolas could not retain a snort. "What?" Gimli growled.

"Nothing. Just not too surprised at all…" Legolas replied casually while pressing his ear against the wall as well.

The Dwarf continued muttering under his breath, "I doubt an Elf will be of much help when caves are concerned."

"My people live in caves, as you well know!" Legolas snapped.

He wanted to say more to that bearded nuisance, but Gandalf interrupted them firmly, "Will you two stop this! The door we are looking for was made in a time when there was still friendship between Elves and Dwarves – will it be too much asked of you to honour the memory of those peaceful days?" The Istar rolled his eyes and turned back to the wall.

Gimli rubbed his beard and glared at Legolas. "It was not the fault of the Dwarves that the friendship waned," he contributed.

"I have not heard that it was the fault of the Elves," Legolas retaliated, but he decided to hold his tongue on seeing Gandalf's glare.

"I have heard both!" the wizard pointed out. "Now make yourselves useful, I beg you. The sooner we find the door, the faster our journey continues."

Legolas decided that a Prince of the Woodland Realm would not allow some discourteous Dwarf to unsettle him. He resumed his search without another word. It did not help his concentration that the water of the nearby lake stirred from time to time. Legolas did not like that lake, the very air it was exuding did not feel right for some reason. But of course, nothing during their whole Eru-forsaken journey had felt right so far. What did irritate him, though, was the fact that Merry and Pippin had started some sort of game that involved throwing stones into the water. Fortunately Frodo put an end to it soon enough.

Suddenly the wizard let out a triumphant laugh. "There it is!" he exclaimed, stepping back and revealing a pattern of fine silvery lines carved into the rock.

"The emblems of Durin," Gimli pointed out and Legolas added, "And the Tree of the High Elves." They exchanged a look of mutual contentment, but it lasted no longer than a few seconds before it was replaced by a hostile glare again.

"My ancestor Narvi made a fine solid door," the Dwarf observed while knocking his axe against it. "This, Master Elf, is Dwarven craftsmanship! It outlasts the centuries as if untouched by weather and time."

"So did the letters of Celebrimbor," Legolas answered, trailing the ithildin lines with his fingers. He thanked the Valar for every tiresome hour he had been forced to spend with his nose buried in books as an elfling, or else he would not have been able to read the outdated kind of tengwar.

"'The Doors of Durin, Lord of Moria. Speak, friend, and enter'," Gandalf proclaimed. Legolas waited eagerly for the Istar to speak the password and open the door already, but apparently neither he nor Gimli knew it.

"Seriously, what is the use in bringing an Istar who claims to know the road but apparently not much of his craft?" he mumbled into Aragorn's ear while sitting down on a rock beside him.

"Relax," the Dúnadan gave back and lit his pipe, "give him time. I've been on lots of journeys with him – if anyone finds the way, it's him." He did not look too convinced himself. Legolas sighed and resolved to keep an eye on the still stirring water.

* * *

><p>Nimiel gave her daughter an odd look from across the laboratory at the Houses of Healing, where she had just been about to make a tincture to soothe headaches before Tauriel had walked in with the strangest of requests. "You are telling me that I need to prepare for large numbers of wounded soldiers?" she asked. "What are you expecting, a war at our doorstep?"<p>

Tauriel frowned and tilted her head. "Not only at ours, I'm afraid, but this is the doorstep I'm chiefly concerned with. The Orcs and Easterlings are regrouping and they seem to have formed an alliance with the spiders. The Southern Division reported movements at the border…"

"Yes, very well, I believe you, I will make according arrangements," Nimiel interrupted her. For one thing she did not understand much of Tauriel's military parlance, for another she could not quite follow any explanations as long as the poor girl was standing there in the doorframe looking like a picture of misery. Since her return three days ago Tauriel had been a pale shadow of her former vivacious self and it broke Nimiel's heart to see her daughter in such a state.

"Tauriel, you do not look well," she tried, fully aware that the captain was not known to take particular care of her own health. "Are you sure your encounter with the Black Riders is not still affecting you?"

"Pretty sure," Tauriel gave back, forcing a smile, "it's probably just the strain." She leaned against the doorframe and breathed deeply.

Nimiel set down her bowl of herbs and walked towards her daughter. "Legolas' company must have crossed the mountains by now," she pointed out as casually as she could. Tauriel had not spoken much about the prince, except for informing Nimiel of his undertaking, but the healer knew her daughter had to be worrying about him during most of her waking hours.

"I suppose they have," Tauriel affirmed, "unless… No, well, you're right, they should be east of the mountains now and halfway to Lothlórien." She tried to look confident and failed gloriously.

Nimiel put her arm around her daughter's shoulder and shoved her inside the laboratory while closing the door. "Legolas may be on a dangerous journey," she observed, "but it will not help him, or anyone else, if you make yourself miserable all the time. You cannot change his decision and you will need your strength for you own tasks."

"But I should have changed his decision, shouldn't I? I should have talked him out of it," Tauriel suddenly blurted. "I tried, believe me, but he would not listen to me. I'm the Captain of the Woodland Guard, it's my first and foremost task to protect the inhabitants of Greenwood from harm. I failed – and with him of all people!" A tear made its way down her cheek and she wiped it away hastily.

Nimiel could not think of a convincing way to comfort her, so she simply said, "I know you did your best, but it was his own choice that we all must allow him, as much as we wish he had not made it. You know Legolas, you two have been through many dangers together – he will find a way through this one too, I am sure."

Tauriel nodded and managed to reply with a sudden expression of defiance, "He has to! I told him I did not need a Dark Lord or any of his henchmen to make me a widow before…" She stopped, biting her lip.

Nimiel's eyes widened and she assessed her daughter investigatively. "I do not intend to be indiscreet, but did you just happen to almost tell me that you two finally made up your minds?" Despite the serious situation she could not stop herself from grinning.

"Well, yes," Tauriel mumbled, thoroughly inspecting the floor, but she could only keep up her awkward expression for a moment because Nimiel pulled her into her arms without another word.

"Congratulations, my dear!" she exclaimed, perfectly aware that her joy was a little misplaced at the moment but unable to retain it.

Tauriel smiled weakly. "Let's see about that, shall we?"

Nimiel's grin turned into a frown and she stated firmly, "You really should not paint the future in such awfully dark colours. I cannot think of a better reason for Legolas to return. Of course we cannot do more than hope, but hope is a power to be reckoned with – believe me, I know, I saw the Fall of Doriath and the War of the Last Alliance and…"

She would have rambled on for another good while, but fortunately Tauriel already interrupted her, "All right, fine, I'll try and think positively." She looked slightly annoyed at first, but then a glimpse of a smirk curled her lips, although her expression was still bitter. "Actually, you're right. After all, he has survived me for seven hundred years and that certainly counts as good training."

* * *

><p>Moria was even darker than the most terrifying tales could convey. Its darkness was not a mere absence of light but an atmosphere reeking of an ancient malice that sent a chill down Legolas' spine. The companions were passing the night in an enormous hall with pillars as high as the oldest trees of Greenwood. Gandalf had taken the night watch while the others had turned a corner of the hall into an improvised bedchamber.<p>

The Hobbits were huddled together and wrapped tightly in their blankets and cloaks to stay at least tolerably warm. Aragorn was leaning against a pillar with his chin resting on his chest, his hood covering most of his face. Boromir was stretched out by the wall and seemed to be dreaming because his right leg twitched every now and then and hit his large shield with a metallic noise. The Dwarf – of course – was snoring and his hideously long beard seemed to be blanket and pillow enough for him.

The wizard was puffing smoke rings and staring into the dark. Legolas watched him for a while, then he let his eyes wander over his sleeping companions once more and decided to join Gandalf. He walked over to him quietly and sat down.

"Not tired?" Gandalf welcomed him and gave him a friendly look.

Legolas shook his head. "I admire those who can sleep in such a place," he remarked and gestured around. "If you want, I can take over for a while…"

The wizard waved his pipe, almost making Legolas cough, and declined, "No, thank you, I cannot sleep here either. I have a feeling the Goblins that our friend Pippin roused are not the only unpleasant inhabitants of these mines." He blew out a cloud of smoke and continued staring into the dark. Legolas pondered whether to ask what exactly Gandalf was referring to, but remembering the old stories he had read and the rumours he had heard about Moria was enough to put him off that plan. Better worry about it when the time came.

The silence that followed resounded in the huge hall like the roar of a dragon and was far worse than the occasional distant drum sounds, which constantly reminded the company that they were not quite alone. Legolas made an effort to shake off the fear that tried to creep into his mind. "I suppose this is what the tales call an adventure," he suddenly heard himself say. "As an elfling I always wanted to be part of a grand quest to save the world – and I guess that's what we're trying to do here – but it doesn't feel heroic at all so far. To be honest, I don't think all of us are fit to oppose the evil that is waiting for us." He glanced over his shoulder and let his eyes rest on the Hobbits.

Gandalf caught his look, raising an eyebrow. "What?" Legolas interjected. "You saw what Pippin's thoughtlessness did to our hope of secrecy. Frodo, our treasured Ring-bearer, almost got himself eaten by that tentacle beast at the gate without even trying to fight it and Sam keeps on talking about the fate of his horse. Are these warriors in your eyes?"

Very slowly the Istar took his pipe out of his mouth and gave Legolas a long, thorough stare. "Were you born a warrior?" he finally asked. "If you had been raised in a land where the most dangerous creatures are angry billy goats and the deadliest weapons are pitchforks, would you know how to slay Orcs and fight off water beasts? And, what is even more important, would you be willing to travel all across Arda, carrying the mightiest weapon of the enemy around your neck, to enter the very heart of all darkness in this world? If you can answer these questions with an honest yes, you may actually be allowed to question the motives of our four young Hobbits."

Legolas gulped, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "Still, as admirable as their intentions may be, they are a liability," he pointed out. The Dwarf gave a loud snore, as if to remind him that the Hobbits were not the only companions he would rather have left behind in Imladris.

Gandalf puffed a few more smoke rings before he replied, "Bilbo Baggins was a liability as well – terribly annoying, kept worrying about second breakfast and the lack of handkerchiefs – and yet, among other things, he managed to trick the whole Woodland Guard and get the Dwarves out of your dungeons. Remember?" He emphasised the last word in a way that made Legolas ashamed and furious at once.

"Come now, my dear prince," the wizard added with a smirk, "you will get used to your companions soon enough. I have always known you as an open-minded fellow, more so than lots of your kinsmen, if I may say this aloud. I myself have found that Hobbits and Men and Dwarves make for excellent companions, temporary ones of course, as long as you allow them their peculiarities."

"The same goes for Maiar," Legolas grumbled.

Gandalf shrugged and chuckled into his beard. "As well as for Eldar," he added.

"I visited the Woodland Realm once when you had only seen your eighth or ninth winter," he continued after a short pause. "I had just come from Lindon and your mother was eager to hear what news I could tell her from her old home. So your parents and I were sitting by the fireplace, chatting about the good old times, when suddenly the door flung open and in stormed the Prince of Greenwood, followed by a rather exhausted Galion, held up a tiny dead spider and declared with the pride of a victorious warrior, 'Ada, Nana, look, I slew a beast!'"

Legolas felt his cheeks flush, but he could not help grinning. Gandalf waved his pipe and went on, "Your father quickly took the spider from you before you could hold it under your mother's nose, because he knew she was not overly fond of dead insects on her tea table. However, he praised your bravery to the skies and prophesied you a future as a great warrior. You were as proud as a little elfling could possibly be. But when she had allowed you to savour your triumph over the fearsome beast, your mother lifted you on her lap and spoke to you in the sincerest tone, 'Legolas, you must never forget that almost all beings that dwell on, above or beneath the earth are creations of the Valar or the Great Eru himself. We have to respect them, even though we do not understand their ways. You may become a mighty warrior someday, but you must remember that no living being is beneath you just because it is different from you.' So she said and you soaked up every word with eyes as wide as the plains of Hollin. You may not remember that day, but I know you have lived by your mother's advice since then. Let me just tell you that this journey will be a lot more agreeable for you if you do not make Hobbits, Dwarves and Men an exception."

Legolas' face turned crimson. "Fair point," he gave back contritely, "I'll do my best to get used to them."

"I know mortal folks can be challenging," Gandalf agreed, "but they're quite charming once you get to know them, even though they are clumsy…"

"And they smell," Legolas added.

"And snore," Gandalf contributed.

"And smoke pipes," Legolas pointed out, making the wizard cough in surprise. "Why in Manwe's name did you have to adopt that one of all customs?" the prince wanted to know, pointing at the pipe.

"Radagast first showed it to me," the answer came promptly. "It's very relaxing. Would you like to give it a try?" He shoved the pipe into Legolas' face, who backed away with his hands raised.

"Eru forbid!" he exclaimed and gave a start at the sound of his own voice echoing in the hall. When everything was quiet again the two of them exchanged a grin and Legolas said, "I'm glad you're with us, Mithrandir."


	32. Red Flames

The Dwarves were dead. The tomb of Balin son of Fundin, as well as the miserable remains of his kinsmen, told the gruesome story of their defeat. Gandalf was trying to decipher the records of their last days from a tattered and almost illegible leather-bound book, while the rest of the company were awkwardly standing around in the large chamber and trying not to step on any Dwarf skeletons. Gimli was contemplating his cousin's grave with empty eyes, his mouth forming a silent blessing in his language.

Legolas only heard half of what the wizard was reading aloud, but he understood that the Dwarves had been trapped in the mines and then massacred by Goblins. Several individual fates were related briefly; Legolas caught the name of Óin and vaguely remembered the corresponding face. According to the old book, the friendly Dwarf with the ear trumpet, who had been in Esgaroth during its destruction, had fallen victim to the tentacle beast in the pond. Legolas sighed – better not tell Tauriel. If he ever saw her again, that was. He quickly pushed the thought away and focussed on his surroundings again.

The drumming noise hat suddenly cut through the silent corridor behind the main exit of the chamber made everyone wince. They had not heard it for hours, so it was all the more terrifying. Soon the sound of footsteps, far too many footsteps, could be heard as well. Gandalf dropped the book and Boromir hurried to the door. When he turned back towards his companions, his face was as grey as the stone walls.

"Fifty Goblins at least. And a Cave Troll," was all he said before he had to jump backwards to avoid an arrow that pierced the wooden door. Aragorn came to his assistance and together they barred the door as best they could, although it would not last long. For the second exit on the opposite side of the chamber there was no time. The others gathered around Balin's grave and drew their weapons.

The door cracked and was pushed open wide enough for a giant toeless Troll foot to squeeze through. Legolas was getting ready to shoot, but all of a sudden he saw Frodo leap forward, his Elven dagger drawn, and bury the blade right in the Troll's foot. The beast roared and retreated, not without throwing Frodo backwards, but he got up again immediately, still clasping his sword. Legolas allowed himself to be impressed for once, as did Aragorn and the others.

For a few moments there was silence in the corridor, but then the Goblins started demolishing the door. Legolas readied his arrow once more and waited until the attackers had broken a hole through the rotten wood. He fired and the shriek that followed told him that he had hit the mark. He shot once more before the door was destroyed and a flood of grey bodies and vile voices entered the chamber.

The two Edain sliced and stabbed through the mass of Goblins with remarkable force, though not with the most refined technique Legolas had ever seen. But again, they had had very few years of practice and they were surprisingly efficient nevertheless. Legolas took a mental note never to underestimate the art of Edain swordsmanship again.

Gandalf wielded both his sword and his staff and took down more Goblins than any of his companions. Legolas would not have expected to see the wizard, inhabiting the body of an old man, turn into such a wrathful warrior.

As for Gimli, being in the halls of his kin and getting a chance to revenge their deaths fuelled his fighting spirit. Legolas had seen Dwarves in battle before and knew they were a force to be reckoned with, so he deemed it wise to stay out of Gimli's way.

The four Hobbits were standing their ground bravely and felling their share of Goblins, but everyone else kept an eye on them as well.

Legolas himself had given up waiting for the Troll to return and had switched from bow to blades. The Goblins of Moria, though short and beastlike, were more agile than the ones he was used to, so the fight required all his concentration. He was just about to behead an attacker while simultaneously avoiding another one's axe, when there was a rumble in the distance and a shriek went through the whole group of Goblins. Legolas did not quite understand what had scared them so much, all he saw was that suddenly they fled out of the chamber and into the dark corridor.

Bewildered, the company stared at the broken door. "Now is the time!" Gandalf interrupted their trance. "Let us go, before the Troll returns! We make for the bridge!" They grabbed their things and hurried to the second exit.

Before they had reached it, a growl at the main door made them stop. Another huge Goblin, clad in rusty armour and wielding a spear, stomped inside. Aragorn and Boromir attacked him, but he was surprisingly strong and parried both their strokes, throwing Boromir to the ground. The beast then threw itself right into the group, the spear raised above his head. Legolas barely had enough time to give Pippin a sideway push. Instead the spear hit Frodo and he collapsed against the wall behind him. Sam let out a scream of shock and fury and attacked the Goblin, actually managing to cut his spear in half. Luckily for him, Aragorn joined him and split the creature's head before Sam could be harmed.

When he Goblin's last twitches and growls were over, everyone turned to Frodo, who was lying in his corner and – breathing heavily! Legolas blinked twice in astonishment. The spear blow should have killed the halfling, but he slowly got to his feet.

Aragorn stared at him for a moment and stuttered, "What is… How did you…?"

The Hobbit gave him a hesitant smile and opened the top buttons of his tunic. Underneath he was wearing something silvery, shimmering.

"Mithril!" Gimli exclaimed in awe and started mumbling something about Thorin Oakenshield and Bilbo Baggins while staring at the chainmail like… well, like a Dwarf at a treasure, Legolas quoted an old proverb in his head.

"Yes, yes, that's all very fortunate and there is a lot more to this Hobbit than meets the eye!" Gandalf interrupted Gimli's contemplation impatiently. "But we must hurry!"

As there was indeed no time to lose, the company finally set off to find the old bridge that would lead them to the eastern gates and out of the mines at last. Legolas had to drag Gimli away from his kinsman's grave and he could have kicked the stubborn Dwarf for it, but in the end all of them were out on yet another long, black stairway leading downwards.

All of them – except Gandalf. He had stayed back and in the distance they could hear the same unintelligible rumble that had scared off the Goblins. Legolas felt an inexplicable panic rise in him. Every fibre of his body sensed that something worse than Orcs was following them. A white light flashed through the dark above them, then the infernal grumble of breaking stone could be heard. The next thing Legolas perceived was Gandalf falling down the stairs, turning, twisting and groaning. Then there was nothing but utter silence and darkness.

"What in the name of Mahal…?" Gimli exclaimed and the Hobbits helped Gandalf to his feet.

"I am unharmed," he assured them in a trembling voice, clasping his staff and sword. "We should be safe for the moment, the passage behind us is blocked. Although I am at an utter loss as to what creature it was that just entered the chamber." He glanced back upwards in bewilderment. "It was both shadow and flame, something ancient and of the utmost evil. I tried to shut the doors with a spell, but the creature had magic of its own and when both our spells met, the chamber collapsed. Never before have I felt such malevolent power." He breathed heavily and held on to his staff to stay upright.

Legolas felt his stomach cramp. For once he cursed himself for reading so many ancient tales. He did not dare speak it out loud yet, but he had a very clear idea of what might be lurking up there.

The company started moving again, with Gandalf in the lead. After his encounter in the chamber he could not muster the strength to conjure up the light they usually walked by, so they hurried along in the dark. Legolas suspected that he, being gifted with the excellent vision of the Eldar, was the one who could see the most, and given the fact that even he nearly tripped over his own feet twice, that thought did not reassure him at all.

As they rushed through corridors and halls, they heard the drums and shrieks of the Goblins once again. Arrows started flying across their way and soon the enemies were crawling out of every dark corner and even down the giant pillars. The Cave Troll, now limping but in the company of a second similar beast, appeared behind them. They stopped and drew their weapons, but the sheer mass of attackers rendered any attempt of fighting pointless from the start.

Legolas looked around hectically. There was no way out – just as the Dwarven book had foretold. He tried not to think of anything, especially not of his home or the people he had left there. He caught Aragorn's glance; the Dúnadan looked as terrified as Legolas felt.

Suddenly a collective wince moved the horde of Goblins and they fell silent. The two Trolls turned around clumsily and the next moment they both started stomping off into the shadows as fast as creatures of their stature possibly could. A shimmer of red light appeared in the distance and Legolas felt his throat tighten and let his bow sink.

Out of the shadows crawled an enormous figure that seemed entirely made of fire, yet it exuded the deepest darkness Legolas had ever seen. It held a blade in one hand and a long whip in the other, and where it passed the Goblins fled in panic. Legolas did not realise he was speaking aloud, but he heard himself say, "Eru help us. A Balrog!"

The others turned towards him, some with blank expressions, some with looks of sudden understanding. "Durin's Bane!" Gimli whispered and dropped his axe.

Gandalf stood immobile and muttered, "But of course, a Balrog. Now I understand." He leaned on his staff and took a deep breath, then he straightened his shoulders, faced his companions and shouted, "To the bridge! Run!"

They did not need further invitation. They hurried along until they saw an enormous chasm in front of them, so black and eerie none of them dared look down. A narrow bridge connected both sides and Gandalf gestured towards it. Gimli led the way, followed by the Hobbits and Legolas. The Elda had already reached the middle of the bridge when he turned and became aware that Gandalf and the Edain were not behind him. The wizard shouted something at Aragorn and Boromir, doubtlessly urging them to flee, but both drew their weapons and stayed beside him. The Balrog advanced steadily, raising his whip and blade. Boromir blew his horn, making the whole cave resound and startling the Goblins for a moment. Legolas took the chance to shoot an archer who had been sending arrows at them the whole time.

When the enemy started moving again, Gandalf raised his staff and shouted, "You cannot pass! I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the flame of Anor. You cannot pass!" A white flash emerged from his staff and blinded Legolas. He could not see what happened next, he only heard the battle cries of the Edain and Gandalf's repeated command to the Balrog.

The next moment a small earthquake shook the bridge and the part where the Balrog was standing collapsed. The beast roared and fell into the chasm while Gandalf's staff broke in half and sent out another blinding flash of light.

Legolas grabbed hold of Merry, who was tumbling near the edge of the bridge. When he turned back towards Gandalf, he only caught a last glimpse of the Istar holding on to the edge of the broken bridge. "Fly, you fools!" he said to his comrades. A moment later he vanished in the black chasm.

* * *

><p>The fight at the Upper Crossroads had been short and cruel and in the end the remaining enemies had fled. The Forest Guard was regrouping and the captain noted with relief that the losses were bearable in comparison to the casualties of the opponents. Two guards were gravely injured, about a dozen lightly – Tauriel stopped and wondered when that had become a 'bearable' result in her eyes.<p>

The healers who had accompanied the eighty soldiers on their mission to clean the forest of the intruding Easterling hordes were already tending to the two most urgent cases. Tauriel walked over to them and gave the wounded a few encouraging words. One of them responded with a weak nod, the other could not even hear her over his own cries of pain. She forced herself to step away and concentrate on the tasks she had to fulfil.

"Pile the bodies over there!" she ordered some soldiers who seemed physically able to drag dead Easterlings across the floor. Tauriel threw another glance at the slain enemies – their armour was refined and tended to, as were their weapons, expertly forged short spears that allowed deadly efficiency in combat. These Edain who had sided with Mordor were very different from the savage, unorganised Orc packs the Woodland Guard was used to. The Easterling armies were well structured and their warriors had undergone years of thorough training, judging from the fight they had just put up. The Woodland soldiers' advantage had been their familiarity with the forest, which could be used as a weapon of its own. However, the intruders would soon grow accustomed to the surroundings, Tauriel was afraid.

She heard the lieutenant of the Forest Guard call her name and made her way towards him. Next to him an Easterling was kneeling on the ground, his hands bound. Sidhril stood behind him with her blade at his throat. "Look what we found," Fiondir said and pointed at the captive. "He didn't run fast enough, I reckon." Tauriel noticed an arrow sticking out of the Adan's leg. Sidhril shot a glare at Fiondir, which he parried with a questioning look and a shrug.

The Man stared up at Tauriel with no emotion whatsoever, except for the short flickers of pain he could not quite suppress. He had curly brown hair, dark eyes and his face was painted with black and red lines. He seemed young, even for an Adan, but his whole bearing left Tauriel in no doubt that she was looking at a warrior. 'All the better,' she thought. Subjecting someone who had possibly been dragged to war against his will to the treatment that was now waiting for him would have repulsed her even more than it did anyway.

She exchanged a glance with Fiondir, who told Sidhril to leave. The corporal fulfilled his request, but not before pointing at a bleeding cut on his upper arm and mumbling, "You need to get that cleaned and bandaged."

The lieutenant nodded shortly, grabbed the Easterling by the arm and dragged him a few steps away from the rest of the guards behind some juniper trees. There he let him sink to his knees again and drew one of his blades. The Adan kept silent and resumed his blank stare.

"Who sent you and where did you come from?" Tauriel asked him in the Common Tongue. Of course everyone knew who the ultimate string puller behind all the attacks was, but maybe she could get some useful information about the immediate threat to Greenwood out of him this way. The captive showed no reaction. She repeated the question in Sindarin, just in case, but the result was the same. Fiondir grabbed his arm and pulled it upwards in a painful angle. The Easterling groaned under his breath, but his expression did not change.

Tauriel tried another tactic and told him, "If you cooperate, we will allow you to leave." She emphasised her statement with gestures indicating a person walking away, ignoring Fiondir's raised eyebrow. What she did not say, of course, was that he would not survive a day alone in the spider-infested forest, limping and smelling of blood as he was. Alliance or no alliance, the spiders would not renounce a good meal served to them on a silver plate.

The Man muttered something in a language that was not even remotely alike to anything she had ever heard. Tauriel looked at Fiondir for a second opinion. "Oh, come on, who doesn't speak even a bit of Westron?" he grumbled and tightened his grip around the captive's arm, pressing his blade to his throat.

"I don't know," she gave back. "He looks pretty foreign to me. If Alation was here, I bet he could make something of his jabber."

"We aren't taking him to the palace, are we?" Fiondir asked in disbelief.

Tauriel shook her head. "I don't think so. Let me try once more and if he can't or doesn't want to answer, he shan't be our problem anymore." She planted herself in front of the captive, pointed at him and spoke very slowly and clearly, "You. Rhûn? Khand?"

She knew these were Sindarin place names, but she had no idea what the inhabitants of those regions might call their homelands. However, a flicker of understanding flashed over the Adan's face. He suppressed it as quickly as it had appeared and let out a universally understandable snort before he fixed his eyes on a tree trunk in front of him with a bitter grin.

Tauriel shrugged – as he wished. She did not have time to deal with stubborn Easterlings. "Let go," she simply said to Fiondir. He released his grip and walked a few steps away from the Man. Within the blink of an eye Tauriel unsheathed one of her daggers and sliced the Easterling's throat in one precise movement. He sank to the ground in silence. She shook the blood off her blade and sheathed it again without a word before starting her way back to the soldiers.

"What happened to setting him free?" Fiondir asked casually, walking next to her.

"I said if he cooperated," Tauriel clarified. "Besides, this death was a lot more merciful than what the spiders would have done to him."

Fiondir nodded. "True. Would have been a shame for one like him." Tauriel caught his look that reflected her own exact feelings about the whole twisted morality of war.

The soldiers had finished piling the bodies and the wounded had been tended to as far as possible. Someone had fetched the few horses they had brought with them and the two gravely injured guards were heaved on their backs, so they could at least be taken home immediately. The return journey would take approximately a day and a half, given that there would be no more unpleasant encounters.

The troop started moving and Tauriel took the opportunity to find Sidhril and her unit. Fortunately none of them was injured. Sidhril was very quiet, apart from pointing out half-heartedly that the cold and humid weather was most uncomfortable, before falling silent again.

Tauriel assessed her sceptically. "Sidhril, what is the matter with you?" she could not refrain from asking.

Her friend gave her a look of utter bewilderment and said nothing for a good while. "These were Edain," she finally mumbled to the tips of her boots, "Children of Ilúvatar, just like us. We killed dozens of Edain today."

She did not need to say more to make Tauriel understand and there was no possible answer that could have made it any better, so they simply continued their way in silence.

* * *

><p>The evening's last sunlight and the peaceful sound of birds chirping in the trees of the Lothlórien forest were soothing and painful at once after the long dark and the menacing silence of Moria. Escaping the danger and coming to such a beautiful place made Legolas fully realise what had happened, although a long way already lay between the company and the mine. Gandalf was dead – a possibility that would never have occurred to Legolas or to any of his companions. He was a Maia, for Eru's sake! But again, so were Balrogs and they could be slain as well.<p>

It was getting late and they would have to find a place to sleep soon, as Aragorn pointed out. The others were quiet, undoubtedly lost in their own thoughts about Gandalf's dreadful fate, only Merry and Pippin kept chattering about banalities. Legolas was slightly irritated, but he did his best not to blame them. It was probably their way of coping with the grief.

The Elda himself had one more thing on his mind. His companions had not noticed it yet, but for quite a while he had been catching occasional glimpses of grey figures in the treetops, silent and swift as shadows, following them subtly and observing their every step. He knew they had nothing to fear of the Galadhrim, but he kept vigilant nevertheless.

When they reached a small clearing and the tired faces of the Hobbits told the company that it was time to rest, Aragorn pointed out that it would not be wise to stay on the ground. "The Orcs could be following us," he reminded the others, "and we haven't advanced far enough into the forest yet to be safe."

Boromir agreed, whereas Gimli only gave a disdainful grumble. Legolas ignored him and decided to climb one of the giant mallorn trees to see if it could be turned into a proper sleeping place.

"Sleeping on trees may work for birds, but not for Hobbits!" Pippin objected earnestly, clasping his pack and glaring up at the mallorn.

Legolas rolled his eyes at him. "Then dig a hole in the ground if that is more after the fashion of your kind. But you must dig swift and deep if you wish to hide from Orcs," he hissed at him. Slowly but steadily that halfling was beginning to annoy him. He forced himself not to think about what might or might not have happened if Pippin had not roused the Goblins of Moria in the first place. Biting the inside of his cheek in frustration, Legolas climbed the tree while the others started unpacking.

He had come about halfway to the top and was standing on a strong branch when the leaves started rustling and suddenly an arrowhead appeared right in front of his face. He froze and waited for the corresponding Galadhrim archer to emerge from between the leaves.

When he did, Legolas let out a sigh of relief. "Haldir – thank Eru," he greeted him. "Would you mind taking that arrow out of my face?"

It took the soldier a moment to realise who was speaking to him, but when he did, he let his bow sink and gave Legolas a surprised smile. "Legolas Thranduilion, so it is you indeed. I told Rúmil he was mad when he claimed to have recognised you among this strange company."

"Then you owe him an apology," Legolas replied, trying to look confident.

"We have been following you since you passed the Nimrodel – rather impossible to overlook you," Haldir continued while putting his arrow back into the quiver. "Those mortals breathe so loud, we could have shot them in the dark."

"Lucky for them it's not dark yet," Legolas replied awkwardly and let out a nervous chuckle. He already dreaded Haldir's next question.

Indeed the soldier wanted to know immediately, "Do I have to ask what brings you here or is it… what I think it is?" His expression of abhorrence mixed with fear told Legolas enough.

"I'm afraid so," he muttered, glancing down the tree trunk where he could hear his companions' muffled chatter.

Haldir followed his eyes and remarked, "The Lord and Lady told us of the quest and asked us to look out for you, in case you would intend to pass through here. How many are with your company?"

Legolas' first impulse was to say 'nine', but then he remembered and gulped before he replied, "We are eight. Apart from myself there are two Edain – Aragorn son of Arathorn should be a familiar name in these parts – and four Hobbits of the Shire, one of whom carries the… you know."

Haldir's frown deepened. "I see. But that's only seven."

"Well," Legolas added hesitantly, "the eighth is a Dwarf." He knew that information would not be too well received.

Indeed Haldir gave him a look of exhausted disbelief and pointed out, as if addressing a twenty-year-old elfling, "You expect me to let a Dwarf enter our land? We haven't had dealings with them since the Dark Days and you Woodland people of all should know…"

"Yes, of course I know!" Legolas interrupted him. "Don't tell me, I've been travelling with him for twenty-three blasted days! But he's harmless and righteous, I daresay. He came from Erebor to seek Lord Elrond's council because his people had been troubled by Black Riders various times. Elrond himself chose him to be part of our company. He's on our side and I'm sure he'll behave himself." The last part was a blatant lie.

Haldir did not look convinced. On seeing the Galadhrim's unmoved expression, Legolas suddenly felt all the shock, grief and horror that he had been able to hold at bay until then overwhelm him. He closed his eyes for a moment and forced himself to breathe steadily before he gave it one last try. "Please, Haldir, let us rest in your land. We cannot go on right now. The ring is weighing heavily on all our spirits. Besides, you don't know what has happened to us already during this early stage of our journey. We passed through Moria and… Forgive me, I'd rather not tell you before the Lord and Lady know. Please, mellon, you have known me for six hundred years – I would not willingly risk the peace of your land." He grasped a branch of the tree. There was something reassuring in the touch of the wood that was full of life and still uncompromised by evil.

A deep sigh and a look of pure disapproval, mingled with pity, were Haldir's response. "Very well," he finally gave in begrudgingly, "you can stay here for the night and tomorrow morning we take you to Caras Galadhon." He signalled Legolas to follow him and started climbing down, but after a few feet he stopped and added, "You will keep an eye on that Dwarf! You and Aragorn will answer to us for every transgression he commits. And when we take you to the city, he will go blindfolded or not at all."

"Fine!" Legolas hissed, doubting that Gimli would agree to such terms, but still thanking Eru for small favours.

When they reached the ground and the company became aware of the strange Elda, the first thing Gimli did was reach for his axe. Legolas wanted to vanish in a hole in the ground, but apparently his mortified expression incited Aragorn to grab the Dwarf by the arm and make him lower his weapon.

Haldir whistled twice and within mere seconds two more Galadhrim descended from the neighbouring trees. Legolas recognised Rúmil and Orophin and greeted them with a nod.

"Calm down, everyone," he tried to reassure his companions, who looked rather bewildered. Legolas wondered for a moment, but then he concluded that three Elves who appeared out of nowhere, heavily armed as they were, could indeed be a frightening sight to behold for mortal folks. "These are the Galadhrim of Lothlórien," he explained, "they are old friends of mine and there is no need to fear them. Just… put down that Eru-forsaken axe, will you!" He glared at Gimli, who obliged him as slowly as his own survival instinct allowed it.

Aragorn approached the Eldar and greeted them heartily, whereas Boromir and the Hobbits observed their new hosts from a respectful distance and Gimli chose not to acknowledge their presence at all anymore.

Haldir planted himself in front of them all and said hesitantly in the Common Tongue, "Well come – is that the word?" He glanced at Legolas, who discreetly whispered the correct expression to him. "Oh, I see," Haldir continued. "Welcome then! You must excuse me, I rarely speak this language anymore, as our people prefer to stay among ourselves these days." His glare at the travellers made it unnecessary for him to explain what an extraordinary favour he was doing them by not simply shooting them for crossing the border of his forest.

In the end it was decided that the company would spend the night on the talans the Lothlórien Border Guard used as resting places. The Hobbits were taken to one platform by Haldir and his brothers – much to the discomfort of Pippin, who was afraid to roll off in his sleep – whereas the others were assigned another talan in a nearby tree that was already occupied by two more Galadhrim soldiers.

The Edain climbed the rope ladder with some difficulty, but Legolas had to acknowledge that he would not have been a very elegant climber either if he had carried as much luggage and as many weapons as they did. The Dwarf, however, strictly refused to join them and insisted on staying on the ground. "Too many bloody Elves up there," was his rather emphatic explanation. The three of them tried their best to persuade him, but at some point Aragorn gave up and decided to leave him alone, if only for a while.

The two Gladhrim eyed them warily at first, even though their comrades had explained the presence of the strange visitors. Aragorn and Legolas addressed them carefully in Sindarin and bid them good evening. Even Boromir employed his less than perfect but still fairish Sindarin skills to give them a few polite words. Reassured by the friendly greeting, the soldiers retreated to the opposite edge of the talan and contented themselves with a discreet glance at the foreigners from time to time.

The companions unpacked what food they had left – mostly lembas and some dried fruit – and started their evening meal in silence, each of them wrapped in their own thoughts, but probably all trying to come to terms with the same circumstance.

After a while Boromir stopped chewing and looked around. "A peaceful place, isn't it?" he remarked, not addressing anyone in particular.

Aragorn nodded. "Indeed. It's as if this forest had been overlooked by the shadow that is spreading over the rest of the world." Legolas did not quite agree; he felt that even the Golden Wood was beginning to succumb to the powers of evil, although not as quickly as other lands, but he kept silent and granted his companions the comforting thoughts.

"I feel I can breathe more freely here than I could during our whole journey," Boromir stated and took a deep breath as if to demonstrate his meaning. "It could be because the ring isn't here for once," he added after a moment, frowning. "Do you feel its presence as well? I don't know, it's as if it tries to… draw me in somehow, as if it wants to…" He stopped on noticing Aragorn's glare.

Legolas quickly interjected, "I feel it as well. No wonder, I think. Poor Frodo, who has to endure it so closely." Both Edain nodded and Aragorn went back to his piece of lembas, although he still glanced warily at Boromir.

"So, is this place at all like your homeland?" Boromir wanted to know from Legolas, or perhaps he was just looking for an alternate topic.

The Elda tilted his head. "Well, I am from a forest too, but you could not simply camp in a tree there. My people live in large subterranean caves because the forest has grown too dangerous. It is infested by spiders as big as horses, Orcs, Wargs…" He frowned. "Now that I'm saying this, it sounds like an awful place, but in fact I love it nevertheless. It's my home."

Boromir gave him a weak smile and affirmed, "I see your point. Since Minas Tirith is so close to Mordor… Well, let's just say those who have not seen their homeland overrun by evil and their own people suffering and dying simply don't understand what that means." He stared down at his hands, carefully avoiding Aragorn's look. The Dúnadan's lips tightened, but his eyes showed a deep understanding at the same time. He took his pipe out of his pocket and lit it to have an excuse for staying silent.

Legolas ignored the foul fumes and tried to distract his comrades by requesting, "Tell me about Minas Tirith, Boromir, if you will. I have once been to the White City, but that was more than six hundred years ago and I imagine it must have changed greatly."

Boromir's face lit up as he started to talk about the city of his forefathers, its white towers and great halls, its busy streets and quiet hideaways. Even Aragorn smiled now and then.

"What about your family?" Legolas inquired. "I know your father is the Steward of Gondor, but that is about all I have heard."

"I have a younger brother," Boromir explained with a warmth in his voice that was not usually there, "he is a captain of the Gondorian armed forces, but I daresay he is more of a scholar than a warrior at heart. Our mother used to say that he was the smart one of us and I was the… uhm, let's call it the strong one." He chuckled and rolled his eyes, but then his expression became serious again. "He was only five years old when she died. My father suffered greatly from her loss, as we all did. He is a righteous man and a just ruler who does what he can to protect our people, but life hasn't been too kind to him and has hardened his heart. I hope he will live to see happier days."

"So we all do," Aragorn weighed in, giving Boromir a conciliating smile.

"What about you, Prince of Mirkwood?" the Gondorian wanted to know.

Legolas suppressed the snide comment he wanted to throw at Boromir for calling his homeland by that name and answered instead, "We prefer to call it Greenwood. And, just like you, I have a widowed father who has become rather troubled and, to be honest, downright grumpy over time. We Eldar are deeply connected to our homelands and as the forest grows darker, so do we. But just like you, I will not let any ill words be said about my father because he is a wise and caring king. I have no brothers and sisters, though. In fact, I am one of the youngest of my kin."

"How old are you, if I may ask?" Boromir inquired, pondering the idea of an Elda calling himself young.

"I celebrated my seven hundred and thirteenth begetting day last summer," Legolas replied, wondering at the astonished look his answer provoked.

"Your seven hundred and thirteenth what?" Boromir repeated, raising his eyebrows. Legolas looked back and forth between him and Aragorn, who was nearly choking on his pipe smoke due to his suppressed laughter.

"Begetting day," Legolas repeated, "the day that…"

"I know, I know what you mean," Boromir interrupted him, waving his hand. "So your people actually celebrate the day that your parents…?"

"Never mind, Boromir," Aragorn cut through his question, "they're Elves. Their customs are… different."

"We celebrate the day that the new life came into existence," Legolas felt the need to clarify. Boromir and Aragorn's amusement was utterly incomprehensible to him, even more so when Boromir leaned over to the Dúnadan and murmured, "And I thought Elves were said to be incredibly chaste."

"They are, in a way, but they have their very unique views on lots of things," Aragorn gave back and Legolas started wondering if he had suddenly become invisible, with the two Edain shamelessly talking about him in his presence. He felt his cheeks flush red for no apparent reason, which did not go unnoticed by Aragorn and made him go one better by adding, "If anyone is allowed to say this, it's definitely me. Do you have any idea what it's like to grow up in Imladris as the only Adan far and wide, surrounded by all those flawless, ethereal Eldar with their grace and their wisdom and their perfectly combed hair?" He grinned broadly at Legolas.

The prince was just opening his mouth to reply, but fortunately one of the Galadhrim soldiers rose from his place at the other side of the talan and approached them with a flask in his hand. "Would you like a sip of wine?" he asked. "It's cold tonight and your water won't keep you warm."

They looked up at him in surprise, but his friendly expression persuaded Legolas to accept the offer. He thanked him, took the flask and drank a small sip. It was a decent red wine, though not as strong as the Dorwinion that was often consumed at the Woodland Palace. Legolas passed the flask to Aragorn, who took a gulp as well before handing it to Boromir. Then the Galadhrim took it back and left them. Legolas could see him taking a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiping the flask thoroughly before putting it into his bag, apparently unwilling to drink from it again that night. Legolas grinned and turned back to his companions.

"Wine during duty," he muttered under his breath, "if these were Woodland soldiers, they would spend the next week scrubbing the floor of the armoury."

Aragorn smirked and Boromir could not refrain from observing, "I bet they would. I didn't see much of your captain back in Rivendell, but I have no trouble believing that it's best not to tangle with her."

Aragorn joined in, "Wise, my friend! When I came to Greenwood to deliver Gollum to the Elvenking, the Captain of the Guard welcomed me with a heartfelt punch in the stomach because I tried to reach for a letter that I was keeping in my pocket."

Boromir chuckled – probably due to the Elven wine that immediately went to the heads of those not used to it. "You must be very brave, Legolas – I myself would not let such a maiden come close to me, at least not so very close."

"What do you mean by that?" Legolas gave back innocently.

The Edain exchanged a look of pitiful amusement before Aragorn replied, "Please, mellon nin, I would wonder if there was anyone in Imladris or the Woodland Palace who had not noticed your attachment to the captain."

"What of it?" the prince answered and shrugged. He assessed them for a moment, then he resolved with a smirk, "That's it, I'm done with you two silly, half-drunk Second Born. I'm going to see how our friend the Dwarf fares." With that he got up and marched to the edge of the talan.

He climbed down the rope ladder and noticed Gimli leaning against the tree trunk and smoking. The Dwarf looked up on hearing Legolas and was gracious enough to grant him a nod when he came to a stand in front of him.

"Are you still resolved not to join us?" the Elda inquired.

"Over my dead body am I climbing that tree," Gimli gave back and puffed a cloud of smoke. "I'm a Dwarf, not a darned squirrel."

Legolas nodded dryly. "So I gather. But let me remind you that there are Orcs and Wargs about at night. If I were you, I should not want to encounter them all by myself."

"Better to die in an honest fight than to fall off a tree and break my neck," Gimli retaliated.

"Fair enough," Legolas answered. Despite the undeniable perks of spending the night without his infernal snoring, he could not leave Gimli alone on the ground, that much was certain. So he needed to come up with a different strategy to persuade the stubborn Dwarf. He glanced up the tree sceptically, then back at Gimli and finally he said, "When I come to consider it, you may be right. Even my kinsmen pointed out earlier that a Dwarf might have great difficulty climbing up there." He delivered the statement as casually as he could manage.

"What?" was the immediate response. "Those Elves think I can't climb a rope ladder?" Legolas did his best to suppress a smirk. His trick was working even better than he had hoped.

"Personally I have never seen a Dwarf climb a tree at all. It was my natural assumption that your people simply lacked the ability," he probed on.

Gimli snorted, emptied the contents of his pipe on the forest floor, got on his feet and shouldered his pack. "Do you want to see a Dwarf climb, Master Elf?" he barked. "Well, you shall!" With that he grabbed the rope ladder, set one foot on the first rung and heaved himself up. He was swinging lightly back and forth about two feet above the ground, yet his whole body went rigid all of a sudden and he glanced down as if there was a gaping chasm beneath him. Legolas observed him in surprise.

The Dwarf took a controlled breath. Slowly and carefully he put his foot on the next rung, clasping the ropes for dear life. When he stood on it with both feet and looked down again, he suddenly started to shake his head vigorously and exclaimed, "No, I can't do it! No way! I'm not made to climb and I certainly don't like heights. Go ahead, mock me!"

Legolas' eyes widened in astonishment. This mighty warrior who could face down Goblins twice his own size without so much of a blink was afraid of heights? The prince had to take a few seconds to process this idea. Then he answered, "Why would I mock you? You're unused to it, that's perfectly natural. I myself was terrified to enter Moria even before we knew there were Goblins inside, whereas you marched into that mine with a steadfastness that I could only admire." The Dwarf grumbled into his beard, his hands trembling, and threw Legolas a doubtful look.

"Will you try anyway?" the Elda asked encouragingly. "The hardest part is over, I daresay, you're already on the ladder. Now you only have to continue upwards." He knew he was exaggerating monstrously.

"I don't have a choice, do I?" Gimli muttered and breathed deeply.

"I can take your luggage if you want," Legolas offered, but the Dwarf immediately snapped, "I can carry my darned pack on my own!"

Legolas grinned. "As you wish. Go on then, I'll come after you." He grabbed the ladder and held it as steadily as possible.

It took half an eternity and enough muffled curses to fill a book, but eventually Gimli reached the talan. Legolas stepped on the ladder and followed him with a short delay, only to find him already seated next to the Edain. The Dwarf glanced at him from beneath his bushy eyebrows and Legolas could have sworn to detect a slight blush of embarrassment on his leathery face. No doubt he was expecting him to tell the tale of the disgraceful ascent to the Men.

"Oh, there you are!" Legolas simply said to him. "I was looking for you down there, I didn't know you had already gone ahead." He sat down without another word. The Dwarf stared at him for a moment, then he gave him a look that, with a lot of imagination, almost resembled a smile and took out his pipe again.

* * *

><p>The first news that welcomed Tauriel to the palace after her absence of six days was not half as agreeable as she had hoped. The healers had just taken the wounded soldiers under their wing and the unharmed part of the Forest Guard was about to scatter off to the armoury or the Guard's quarters. Tauriel found herself with only the corporals and the lieutenant when Alation approached her with a worried expression.<p>

"Tauriel, I am sorry to lay yet more bad news on you immediately after your mission," he started, "but I have to inform you that during your absence there was another attack. A large pack of Orcs and some spiders came close to the palace. We fought them off, but the king decided to go after them. He took half the Special Operations Unit and a part of the Palace Guard and pursued them. Tuven went with him, Glandir is at the border."

"So?" Tauriel asked, already dreading the next piece of information.

"They left four days ago and have not returned, nor did the scouts find any trace of them," Alation concluded.

Tauriel had to close her eyes and take two deep breaths before she felt strong enough to accept what she had just heard. This was disturbing, extremely so. The king could not simply disappear, especially not when the realm was threatened by a Dark Lord and there was no other ruler present.

The captain spoke a silent curse and addressed Alation again, "We will launch an extensive search. Muster all Palace Guard soldiers you can spare, Fiondir will do the same with the Forest Guard, and have someone gather all the Border Guard soldiers who are currently at the palace."

Alation nodded and took his leave to execute her order. Tauriel turned to Fiondir, who was already looking around and adding up the available forces in his head. "I hate dragging them out there again right now," she stated under her breath. A few of the corporals nodded.

The lieutenant turned to them and decided, "You can judge which ones of your soldiers are able to take part in the search. The rest of them will stay here – after all we need someone to guard the palace. Go and inform your units, then report back to me in half an hour."

Most of the corporals left, only Sidhril stayed with Tauriel and Fiondir and said, "I can tell you right now that my entire unit is unharmed and will join the search. They need not even try to argue."

Fiondir nodded slowly, a frown spreading over his face. "You know, I think you and your unit should stay," he answered, causing Sidhril to stare at him. "As I said, someone needs to guard the palace and that task requires at least a few capable people."

"But, Fiondir, that's the Palace Guard's range of duty," Sidhril objected. "The forest is our domain."

"Very well, your unit can come, but I would prefer you to stay. You killed more Easterlings out there than most of the others and I can see that you're not entirely fit to embark on another mission, especially not if a large Orc pack is concerned." Tauriel could see that Fiondir was looking for the right words. "I'm afraid your… efficiency might be compromised and I don't need this kind of liability."

Sidhril gasped and shook her head. "I'm a liability now? What is wrong with you, I'm perfectly capable of…"

"Corporal, do you understand an order?" Fiondir suddenly hissed in his best commander-in-chief tone. Sidhril's jaw clenched and the glare she threw at him would have scared Tauriel to death if it had been directed at her. Without another word the corporal turned on her heels and stormed off in direction of the Guard's quarters.

Tauriel took her time. For a good while she only looked at Fiondir with an arched eyebrow and her arms crossed. "What?" he asked at some point, visibly irritated. "I'm her superior in command, I can give her orders."

"Indeed you can," Tauriel agreed, "but you could also simply tell her that you are worried about her safety and don't want her to get hurt."

Now Fiondir was at a clear loss. "Didn't I just do that?"

Tauriel only shook her head in exasperation. "No, you yelled at her and patronised her as if she was a stubborn elfling." The only response was a grumbled 'Mmhh', so Tauriel continued very slowly and emphatically, "Seriously, Fiondir, have you learnt nothing at all? This brilliant strategy of yours will get you nowhere with Sidhril, or any elleth for that matter."

"What in Manwe's name are you talking about?" he spat at her, but she only waved her hand and gave back, "Never mind, I'll talk to her and see what I can do as soon as I have time."

She did not wait for his reply and simply left him standing there. He did not even deserve her advice, she reasoned, but then again, if it was for Sidhril's benefit… For some inexplicable reason her friend seemed to think a lot more of Fiondir than Tauriel did. "She could do so much better than this idiot," the captain muttered to herself, still shaking her head, and started her way to the healing quarters to let Nimiel know she had returned unharmed.

* * *

><p>Thranduil glanced through the leafless yet dense and twisted branches of an elder bush. He could see the path, he could hear his companions hidden on the opposite side and on his right and soon he would also perceive the target. The Eldar were waiting patiently, knowing that their hunt had come to an end. For four days they had been following the Orc pack. They were a long way from the palace and it looked as if the beasts did not intend to return there any time soon, but Thranduil had decided not just to chase them away but to kill them. They had attacked his halls, assaulted his people in their own home, and they would pay for it. Sauron should better know who he was dealing with.<p>

Telling himself such things while he and his soldiers were crouching in the shrubbery and on the trees, weapons ready and waiting for battle, was perhaps a little overheroic, but it helped Thranduil to distract himself from the queasy feeling in his stomach that he got whenever he thought of his last encounter with Sauron and his henchmen. 'Calm down, these are only a few filthy, savage Orcs,' he persuaded himself and tightened his grip around his sword handle.

There was a distant noise – footsteps. The king turned to the lieutenant next to him, who caught his look, nodded and fixed his eyes on the path again. Thranduil's heart started to beat faster and he felt his muscles tighten. His body's reaction to the upcoming fight was quicker than his mind's, so at least one of the two still knew what to do. His lips curled into a bitter smirk.

The footsteps were approaching fast. Soon the Orcs came in sight, though long after their repulsive smell had reached the hiding place of the Eldar. Thranduil closed his left eye to see more clearly with only the unharmed one – an old habit that had been necessary ever since his encounter with the dragon during the War of the Last Alliance. The king waited until the first Orcs had passed him, knowing where his soldiers were positioned and calculating the best moment to attack. Then he looked over to the lieutenant again, silently mouthed the word 'now' and drew his sword while Tuven shouted the signal to attack.

Forty Eldar broke out of the shrubbery and descended from the trees, throwing themselves into the mass of stinking bodies in black armour. Thranduil beheaded an Orc with his first stroke; the creature had been too stunned by the surprise attack to defend itself. The distinctive sound of steel cutting through flesh and bones finally persuaded Thranduil's mind to join his body in battle. Another Orc approached him from the left, raising a huge axe-like weapon. The king ducked, sliced through his legs and gave him the final stroke when he sank to the ground.

Most of what happened after that would leave no more than a blurry trace of horrific images and vile noises in Thranduil's memory. Once more he turned into one of many figures in the ancient and always unchanged dance of war, moving to the terrible music of the battlefield.

When it was over, the forest floor was soaked with blood, both black and red. Only when Thranduil walked across the battlefield to look for the lieutenant, he noticed his limp and the stinging pain in his right thigh. He stopped and looked down, surprised to find his trousers blood-stained. Fair enough, he thought and vaguely resolved that he should find a healer. He walked on, ignoring the pain as best he could.

None of the Orcs had survived, whereas most of the Eldar had – more could not be expected, Thranduil stated to himself with grim satisfaction. When he passed the two fallen Woodland soldiers, he bowed his head and mumbled a blessing to them. He had known both of them for long.

Silently he shook his head. This was what war felt like and he hated it almost as much as he hated the person he had to become in order to endure it.

* * *

><p>It was the third day after Tauriel and her search party had left the palace and the seventh after the king's departure. His company had encountered the captain's on their way back from the Orc massacre at the Western Watch Post, as it would most likely be called in the future. Thranduil had been pleased to see his captain unharmed and even more so to hear that the Easterlings had been defeated for the moment. A temporary victory, but a victory nevertheless. Now the whole troop had returned home and Thranduil tried desperately to feel content with what had been achieved. He did not quite succeed, watching the two victims being carried into the palace.<p>

He was welcomed by Galion, who recommended him as urgently as he dared to go to the Houses of Healing and have his wound tended to. Thranduil obliged him, seeing that the captain and the lieutenants did not require any guidance in organising the Guard's return and further assignments. This at least was something to be content about, he thought, watching Tauriel directing the whole chaos with the calm confidence of a true leader. He had never really noticed it before, but he could not help being impressed by the growth she had undergone in every possible sense since he had appointed her as the Chief of Guards. He caught himself smiling.

Thranduil first waited for the more gravely wounded soldiers to be taken to the healing quarters and when he arrived at last, he insisted on waiting for his turn like everybody else. Truth be told, he felt a little out of place among the guards, some of whom displayed far more dramatic injuries than his own harmless but painful flesh wound. After a good while of sitting around in the waiting room with his leg stretched out and staring at the opposite wall in silence, a nurse finally took him to a treatment room and assured him that a healer would be with him any minute. So he waited again and contemplated the various baskets, boxes and bottles on the shelves that covered an entire wall of the small room.

Suddenly the door flung open and the second half of a hastily delivered assignment to one of the nurses waved inside just before the healer who had given it. Thranduil nearly winced on seeing that it was no other than Lady Nimiel of all people, although he was not quite sure whether it was out of joy or annoyance. She still refused to speak to him after their quarrel about him sending Tauriel to Imladris and truth be told, he was getting tired of it.

He gave her a polite nod, expecting the usual cold greeting and a professional but distant treatment of his wound, if not an excuse to send him another healer. But instead he almost doubted his own sanity when she stared at him for an instant, then slammed the door shut, came towards him without so much of a word and flung her arms around him.

Thranduil was dumbfounded at first, but after a few seconds of not knowing where to look or what to do, let alone what to say, he put his hand on her back hesitantly and mumbled, "Oh well, it is good to see you too."

Nimiel slowly pulled away and looked into his face with an expression that was awkward, happy and furious all at once. Then, out of nowhere, she started shouting at him, "You blasted, Eru-forsaken idiot! How dare you just disappear for seven entire days! I was worried sick!" Her glare could have pierced his eyeballs out and he was absolutely certain he had never heard her speak like that to anyone before. The most fascinating part of the spectacle, however, was that her face now alternated between frowning and smiling, with the latter clearly winning the upper hand. It made a feeling of warmth spread in Thranduil's chest that caught him entirely by surprise.

"I swear by all the Valar," the tirade continued, "if you do this one more time, I will…" He never got to hear what she would do to him because the next moment, he did not even know how it had happened, he pulled her in his arms and suddenly found his lips on hers. Nimiel gasped, but she made no attempt to resist, on the contrary. Thranduil did not think of anything – if he had, he would most certainly have been mortified at his own behaviour.

When they slowly let go of each other, Nimiel's face reflected nothing but shock. She stared at him with wide eyes, almost as if she was scared of him and of herself. "I… I am so sorry," she whispered, hectically running her fingers through her hair. "Excuse me." With another bewildered look at him she rushed out of the room, leaving Thranduil to his own utter perplexity.

What in Eru's name had he done? Had he completely lost his mind? How would he ever face her again? And worse, how would he deal with this himself? He was a widower, this was unthinkable! He sunk on the wooden stool by the treatment table and covered his face with his hands. 'She is right,' he thought, 'Thranduil, you are a blasted idiot!'


	33. Silver Stars

The night sky was almost cloudless and the stars were sparkling brightly. Legolas looked up for a moment, but the sight that should have comforted him made his heart even heavier. The same stars he was contemplating shone over wherever Frodo and Sam had wandered to on their own and wherever Merry and Pippin had been taken by their abductors. They also shone upon his friends in Imladris and Lothlórien and upon the treetops of Greenwood where he had left Tauriel, his father and all the others who were dear to him. Gandalf and Boromir, however, would never see the light of the stars again.

Legolas forced himself to shake off the sadness and fixed his eyes on the ground. He had stopped counting the miles that he, Aragorn and Gimli had run across the unhospitable wilderness of Rohan in pursuit of the Orcs that had taken the Hobbits captive. The Dúnadan seemed to be driven by a force of will beyond anything Legolas had ever seen in a mortal. Gimli could hardly keep up with him and even Legolas started to feel a slight heaviness in his legs.

Now and then, when they had reached the top of a hill, he had caught glimpses of the Orc company in the distance. They had also found one of the Hobbits' cloak clasps, which Aragorn had taken as a hopeful sign.

Legolas turned around to see if Gimli was still with them. Somehow it had become his task to watch over the Dwarf and keep the group of three together, as Aragorn was far too absorbed in his own thoughts to pay much attention to his companions.

"Halt!" he shouted when he saw how hard Gimli was trying to stay on his legs while breathing heavily. Aragorn stopped and shot him a glare. On seeing Gimli, the Adan's expression turned from annoyance to resignation.

"Well, I'm sorry," the Dwarf muttered into his beard, "I'm not the least hardy of my folk, but this is too much for me. Besides, what use is there in chasing Orcs in the dark? We can't even follow their track."

"Why not?" Legolas interjected. "There it is, as clear as a pikestaff!" He pointed to the ground, knowing exactly that he was the only one of the company who could see anything at all at present. He could not resist the temptation of rubbing his superior eyesight into Gimli's face after the Dwarf had bragged about his ability to carry heavy gear over long distances a few hours ago.

Aragorn rolled his eyes. "Fine, we'll have a rest," he decided, if only to prevent his two comrades from quarrelling again.

They did not bother making a proper camp – they had nothing but their weapons and some food on them anyway. After eating a small ration of lembas, it took Aragorn and Gimli less than ten minutes to fall into a deep sleep, whereas Legolas could not find any rest. The memories of Gandalf falling into the black chasm and Boromir being impaled by the Orc's arrows would not leave him alone.

Against his will his eyes wandered back to the sky and he contemplated the familiar constellations that had accompanied him on every journey he had ever undertaken. The Eagle shone brightly that night – Legolas remembered an evening long ago, standing on the city wall of Dale with Tauriel. She had told him that the Eagle reminded her of him and he in turn had acknowledged her likeness to a shooting star. He smiled faintly and slid his hand into his pocket where his fingers found the smooth surface of the pebble she had fished out of the river in Imladris for him.

Suddenly a new wave of sadness and fear overcame him. Would he ever see Tauriel again? And his father and Lady Nimiel and old Galion and all the other people he loved? Not knowing what was currently happening in his home was gnawing on his peace of mind even more than the dangers he was facing himself. "Great Eru and all the Valar, I beg you to protect them," he whispered into the darkness before he began to hum an old Silvan song about the awakening of a joyous summer morning.

"What is that you're singing?" the rough voice of the Dwarf interrupted him after a while.

Legolas turned towards him and shook his head. "Go back to sleep," he answered.

"I wish I could, with that blasted elvish sing-song of yours," Gimli grumbled, heaved himself up and came walking towards Legolas while lighting his pipe. The Elf grinned; he knew Gimli only teased him to take his mind off whatever was troubling him.

"Fifty-seven days," the Dwarf muttered. It took Legolas a moment before he understood. "Fifty-seven blasted days on the road and only seven companions left, if not less," Gimli repeated and took a puff of his pipe.

Legolas did not answer immediately; his memories of their two fallen comrades overwhelmed him once more and he had to collect himself first. "I would never have imagined that Gandalf could fall," he finally said. "He seemed so… untouchable, so unaffected by evil. I mean, the Hobbits worried me a lot. And you." He threw a sarcastic glance at Gimli. "I could have bet my right hand on your untimely demise – but Gandalf?"

The Dwarf chose not to grace Legolas' half-serious insult with a reaction and gave back, "Yes, I relied on him as well. What we're going to do without him, I don't know." He puffed out a smoke ring. "He has always been a troublemaker to my kin, that old greybeard," he added after a while. "He convinced Thrór to return to Erebor – made him succumb to the dragon sickness and be hacked to pieces by Orcs in the end. He persuaded Thorin to reclaim the old realm and slay the dragon – you know even better than I do how that endeavour ended. But still, being dragged into that chasm by that horrid fire-breathing beast… He surely didn't deserve that."

"No," was all Legolas could answer. "Boromir didn't deserve his terrible death either," he said a while later, if only to take his mind off Gandalf. "He was a brave and upright man, whatever it was the ring did to him."

A nod came from the Dwarf, along with another smoke cloud. "He was. He had a kind heart and a great love for his people. I believe the ring has the most power over those who have a lot to protect and a lot to lose. You know, I too felt its allure all along the way," he admitted, avoiding Legolas' eyes as if he was ashamed to confess his weakness. "It tried to seduce me into taking it and bringing it to Erebor. Sometimes, at night, I had strange visions, not like normal dreams. I saw my people digging up the greatest treasures any Dwarf has ever laid eyes on. I saw them ruling over the earth itself and the rocks and the caves… It scared me. That's not how it's supposed to be, you know. Mahal rules over all stone and soil in the world and he allows us Dwarves to exploit them, but whenever one of us has been bold or delusional enough to claim lordship over Mahal's creation, they paid a terrible prize for it."

Legolas listened in astonishment. He had never imagined Gimli to be affected by the ring, as indifferent and unmoved as the Dwarf had always seemed to him. Least of all he would have expected him to harbour such honourable feelings. The temptation of great wealth could not have been easy to overcome for a Dwarf. Legolas did not say anything in return.

"What about you?" Gimli eventually wanted to know. "It must have had an effect on you as well – you can sense the bloody grass growing, you can!"

A grin spread over Legolas' face against his will. "I admit I can. Come on, growing grass is pretty hard to overlook," he gave back teasingly. But when he saw Gimli's serious expression, he added, "Yes, the ring made me see and feel things, too."

"What was it?" came the immediate question.

Legolas let out a deep breath and tried to fight back the images rising in his mind. "Death," was all he answered.

"It didn't tempt you?" the Dwarf asked in disbelief.

"It did, in a way," Legolas replied, feeling a cold shiver running down his back. "It showed me how I could protect my home and my people, but they were not the same. They were… changed. In all these years that evil has been taking over my homeland, my people have adapted to the danger as best they could. We cannot really help it, you know, if our forest grows darker, so do we. What the ring made me see were not the merry, earthy, kind-hearted Woodelves I know – they were creatures full of wrath and bloodlust. Nothing would dare threaten them, that is for certain, but they would pay for that safety with the very essence of who they are." Legolas gulped and looked at Gimli. The sight of the Dwarf was strangely comforting after remembering the horrifying visions that had been haunting his sleep. He felt his fingers clasp the pebble in his pocket more tightly.

"Why in Mahal's name are you carrying that stone around?" the Dwarf wanted to know. Legolas quickly took his hand out of his pocket and promised himself never again to underestimate the powers of observation of Dwarves. "It's a promise," he simply answered, regretting the small revelation the same instant.

Gimli snorted disdainfully. "It hasn't even got any runes on it."

"Ulmo shaped this stone in his fashion – who are we to add anything to it and flatter ourselves to improve it?" Legolas tried to distract the Dwarf from the topic at hand.

For a moment the plan seemed to pay off when Gimli answered in slight annoyance, "Your Ulmo may have shaped it, but Mahal created it! And he taught us Dwarves to carve our runes into the stones, so they would keep our words safe and true if we failed to do so. What kind of a promise can be sealed in crude stone?"

"One that does not need words to stay in the hearts of those who made it," Legolas pointed out more sharply than intended.

Without so much of a blink Gimli asked,"The lass with the red hair and the quick temper?"

Legolas stared at him in surprise. "Yes," he replied, figuring that he could as well tell his companion the whole truth. "I promised to wed her when I return, though I'm starting to doubt I can live up to it."

There was no answer, only a nod and another foul-smelling smoke cloud. "Uhm," the Dwarf mumbled eventually, "it'll be all right… I think. Don't worry too much."

He looked so clueless and uncomfortable that Legolas could not help but chuckle. "Are you actually trying to comfort me?" he asked in disbelief.

"Well, you seem troubled," Gimli affirmed. "Though I don't really grasp the point of getting upset about missing your sweetheart when there's a war to be fought." There was no condescension in his voice, just complete and utter bafflement, which made Legolas wonder in turn.

"Have you never been in love?" he asked incredulously, already expecting the answer that followed suit.

"No. Few Dwarves ever feel that inclination. Most of us concentrate on other crafts," Gimli explained as if it was the most natural notion in the world.

"Oh," Legolas could not stop himself from blurting, "but isn't that somewhat… lonely? Don't you ever wish for someone to share your life with and build a future together?"

Now it was Gimli's turn to stare at his companion. "No, why would I? I've got half a dozen uncles and aunts and twice as many cousins. That's quite enough people to share my life with, I should say."

Legolas could only just refrain from rolling his eyes. "Yes, but… What about children? Don't you feel the desire to have a family of your own someday?"

Gimli shook his head decidedly. "As I said, my craft is a different one."

"How can you compare raising a family to… whatever you do for a craft when you don't run across Arda and behead Orcs?" Legolas interjected. The strange viewpoints of this Dwarf were making his brain twist.

Gimli looked no less bewildered. He gave Legolas a blank stare, as if the Elf had just thrown the most ridiculous nonsense at him that had ever been uttered throughout all the ages of Arda. "Why, creating dwarflings and rearing them is a craft, is it not?" he asked, pronouncing every syllable very slowly and carefully. When he received nothing but a frown from Legolas, he added, "Some people forge weapons, others build halls or make food or cut gems – which is what I do, by the way – and some find their fulfilment in raising children. You can't really choose it, the craft you're meant for comes to you naturally in the course of your life."

At that point Legolas gave up on his companion's sanity. "You are not telling me that cutting gems gives you the same gratification parents feel while seeing their child grow up, are you?"

"I don't know," Gimli gave back and shrugged, but suddenly his eyes started shining and he said in an almost loving tone, "When I shape a raw gem to make it achieve its very own perfection that no other gem in the world can reach in exactly the same way, I feel pride and satisfaction and love for what my hands have created. The same goes for every other Dwarf I know, including those who dedicate their lives to marriage and children."

Legolas listened in astonishment. He had never heard Gimli or any other Dwarf speak like that, with such genuine affection and ardour. Well, yes, he corrected himself, he had once heard a Dwarf speak that way – in his father's dungeons, sixty years ago – but then he had seen nothing but impertinence and a greedy creature's attempt to steal something he loved.

"I… I never thought of Dwarves that way," he finally brought himself to say, "I assumed… Never mind." Gimli assessed him sceptically but did not probe any further.

"You see," Legolas felt the need to explain after Gimli had enlightened him about his culture, "Elves can have more than one calling in life. After all, we have lots of time to spend and after a millennium or two even the most fulfilling vocation loses a bit of its appeal, I suppose. I, for example, love archery and studying the ancient lore and most of all I live to protect and care for my people. But Tauriel is the haven where my heart belongs. I find peace with her and her mere existence in this world makes the stars a little brighter and the trees a little greener for me. In Dwarven terms, she is the most perfect gem I will ever cut and the sharpest axe I will ever forge." He was not sure if he had found an appropriate parallel and looked at Gimli to have his choice of words confirmed.

"I see," the Dwarf stated and took a long puff of his pipe. Then he turned towards Legolas, gave him something that resembled a grumpy half-smile and said, "Well then, let's make sure you two will have a world worth spending eternity in."

At first Legolas did not believe his ears, but a look at Gimli told him there was no irony at all. "Thank you, mellon nin," he replied.

Gimli's bushy eyebrows shot up. "Mell- what now?"

"My friend," Legolas translated and had enough tact to fix his eyes straight ahead while Gimli was digesting the new affectionate title he had just received from an Elf. At last he gave a grumble and nodded, then they both continued staring into the night in silence.

* * *

><p>When Tauriel reached the top of the southern watchtower to finish this evening's control round, she allowed herself a quiet moment before making her presence known to the guard. She looked up into the black sky and marvelled at the stars. They seemed especially bright to her that night, but perhaps that was only because she had not seen them often within the last weeks. She distinguished the Eagle between the various constellations and could not help thinking about Legolas for a second or two before she reminded herself not to get carried away – it always ended in terrifying visions of him suffering or dying somewhere far away. The darkness that was getting stronger and stronger everywhere around her did not even spare her own mind.<p>

She crossed the small platform of the watchtower and noticed in surprise that the elleth guarding it was none other than Sidhril.

"Good evening, Corporal," Tauriel greeted her, "everything quiet?"

Sidhril nodded and replied, "Yes, Captain. No remarkable incidents since dusk."

Tauriel relaxed her posture and gave her friend a smile. "I didn't expect you up here," she remarked, trying to remember who was supposed to be on this post according to the duty roster she had glanced through a few hours before.

Sidhril shrugged. "I stepped in for Eluon. He thought he could come back on duty today, but that cut he received last week turns out to be worse than expected. And since no one is allowed to leave the palace anymore, we all have to find ourselves some occupation or another." Her last sentence was accompanied by a slightly reproachful look.

"It's not my fault!" Tauriel protested. "I tried everything to change the king's mind, but he would not be talked out of his decision to lock ourselves inside the caves. Safety should be our highest priority, he said. If you ask me, we would still have had a fair chance of keeping the forest clean, but now, of course, after three days of leaving the borders unguarded, it must be swarmed with Orcs and spiders and all sorts of other filth." She bit the inside of her cheek in frustration.

"What is he planning to do once we run out of supplies?" Sidhril wanted to know.

Tauriel shook her head in resignation. "I have no idea. He seems to hope for some kind of miracle, or maybe he's just utterly desperate and has no plan at all."

The shared a look of bewilderment and fell silent for a good while before Sidhril started hesitantly, "About last week… You haven't said anything about it yet, but I know I made a bloody mess out there. I'm sorry I wasn't at my best that day…"

"It's all right," Tauriel interrupted her quickly, "it was not your fault." Both of them knew that was a lie. Tauriel let out a deep breath while trying to find the right words – a hopeless endeavour, given that her friend had almost caused a rather harmless Orc attack to turn into a bloodbath. Tauriel had not been present, but the official report and the inevitable rumours had told her that the corporal had accidentally revealed the Forest Guard unit's presence to the intruders prematurely and put the mission as well as her comrades' safety at risk.

"I don't understand what's wrong with me," Sidhril said quietly. "I feel I cannot trust myself anymore. Ever since that Eru-forsaken battle in Erebor I keep having these strange moments where I get so terrified of everything around me. A twig, Tauriel – Lainon stepped on a blasted twig and I broke out in panic! I started crying and my heart wouldn't stop racing and all I wanted was to run, no matter where, just far away from the Orcs and the blood and the fighting."

"Then maybe that's what you should do," was Tauriel's try to say something helpful. "There's no shame in admitting you're ill. Truth be told, it's no different from Eluon's cut wound."

Sidhril rolled her eyes. "You sound like Fiondir! I can't back out while our home is being overrun by evil. How could I ever look in the mirror again?" After a moment she added, "It doesn't even matter, now that we're all stuck in the palace anyway."

Tauriel, who had been through this conversation with Sidhril a hundred times and knew it was pointless to call on her reason in that matter, gave up once more and asked instead, "So Fiondir didn't hack you to pieces after the incident?"

"No," Sidhril answered, "he was quite sympathetic. Took him lots of self-restraint, I bet…" She managed a small grin.

Tauriel returned it and nodded, employing a good deal of self-control as well in order to look content. Sidhril watched the spectacle for a few seconds and started chuckling.

"I know you don't think much of him and I'm touched by your concern for me, meldis nin," she pointed out. "But please stop worrying. Fiondir and I have decided to give each other a proper chance at last after all this to-ing and fro-ing. And, you know, I feel silly even saying it, but so far I think it was the best decision I've made in centuries."

Tauriel made an effort to keep up her grin, but it would not pay off. "He's an idiot!" she finally exclaimed despite her own better judgement. Sidhril raised an eyebrow, but Tauriel did not bat an eye. She had found the most heartfelt, accurate words to express her opinion about Fiondir and she would not refrain from speaking her mind.

To her surprise Sidhril started smiling. "Of course he is. But again, so am I. Look, Tauriel, I've known him for almost eight hundred years, we know how to deal with each other. Besides, you of all people should agree that having been through a few decent massacres together is worth something."

"Well, yes, rather," Tauriel admitted. It was not so much Sidhril's statement as the look on her face that made her reconsider her harsh rejection. "Fine," she conceded with a sigh, "you have my blessing – but only under reserve, so if he hurts you, I can still break his legs."

Sidhril nodded and replied, "Fair enough. Thank you, it means a lot to me." After a moment she added, "I mean, not all of us can catch ourselves a Sinda prince."

"A Sinda prince who might be lying dead somewhere in Mordor," Tauriel heard herself mutter.

Now it was Sidhril's turn to sigh and shake her head decidedly. "Stop saying such awful things! If you keep brooding about all the terrible misfortunes that could happen…"

Tauriel did not hear the rest of her friend's sentence. Looking down from the watchtower into the forest, she saw a weak light shimmering red and golden in the distance. The longer she kept her eyes on it, the clearer and bigger it became. The skin on her neck began to prickle uncomfortably. "What in Eru's name is that?" she interrupted Sidhril and pointed towards the strange light, although she already knew the answer.

Her friend's face instantly turned pale. It took her a moment to reply, but then she whispered, "Fire. The forest is burning."

"Well then, here's a reason for the king to let us out!" Tauriel resolved. She was already halfway to the stairs when Sidhril stopped her.

"Wait! What do you want to do? Have the soldiers take a water bucket each and extinguish it?"

Tauriel ignored the sarcastic tone. "No, I'm going to have them kill whoever did this to our forest. You stay on your post and wait for further notice!" she added in her best captain's voice and hurried off to find the king.

* * *

><p>"Damn bloody horse!" Gimli cursed into his beard and rubbed his back while shifting from one leg to the other. "I feel like I was chewed and spat out by a Warg! You had to take off that blasted saddle, didn't you?" He threw a glare at Legolas, who tried his best not to laugh.<p>

"I am deeply sorry to have caused you so much distress," he replied with a slight bow of his head. "I pitied the poor creature and freed it from that horrendous pile of leather, metal and wood the Rohirrim had burdened it with. You must admit our friend seems a lot happier without it." He stroked the horse's neck and grinned at Gimli, savouring the look of growing annoyance building up in the small free space between the Dwarf's beard and eyebrows.

Their quarrel was interrupted by Aragorn's return from his short walk to the edge of the enormous dark forest that was towering over the three hunters like a mountain with a thousand watchful eyes. If the Hobbits had indeed entered there, Legolas did not grant them much better chances of survival than with the Orcs.

"I found footsteps of both Orcs and Hobbits," Aragorn informed them, "two days old, I think." Legolas wondered once more how in the name of Yavanna the Dúnadan could be so certain – after all the ground was covered with grass and leaves – but he decided to keep his doubts to himself. Aggravating Aragorn would be unwise, especially after the news they had received from the company of Rohirrim who had slaughtered Merry and Pippin's abductors near the edge of Fangorn Forest. The chance of finding the Hobbits alive grew thinner and thinner, yet there had been no sign of the halflings' bodies among the burnt Orc carcasses, so a little hope still remained.

"I don't fancy going in there while night is falling," Gimli clarified and pointed at the shadows beneath the ancient trees. "In fact, I don't like it at all, not even at daytime." He tightened his grip around his axe. From the corner of his eye Legolas caught a movement among the trees and a strange rustling went through the foliage. At first he thought he had imagined it, but a look at Aragorn told him that his friend had perceived it as well.

"You better lower your axe, Gimli," the Dúnadan advised the Dwarf. "The Rohirrim have legends about this forest. They say the trees can move and talk to one another – and I'm almost certain they don't approve of axe-wielding Dwarves."

"What? Why, damn your legends!" Gimli shouted and raised his weapon even higher. "Who has ever heard of talking trees? Firewood, that's what trees are good for." The rustling in the leaf canopy grew louder.

"I feel a lot of danger in this forest," Legolas remarked gravely, enjoying Gimli's bewildered look more with every second. He laid his hand on one of the knotted tree trunks and suddenly his mood changed. He had only been joking before, but in fact the touch conveyed something rather unsettling. The tree was angry. Legolas felt the suffering it had endured long ago and the vengeful thoughts that were pulsing through its branches and whispering between its leaves. Horrified, he drew back his hand and stared into the forest for a moment.

He felt Aragorn's hand on his shoulder. "What is it?" the Dúnadan wanted to know.

"Uhm, I… Never mind. Gimli is right, let's camp outside the forest tonight," Legolas muttered and decided not to mock the legends about Fangorn ever again.

He took the first watch because he figured he would not be able to sleep under these trees anyway. However, soon after they had settled and his friends had fallen asleep, a strange drowsiness overcame him. In his sleep-like state he thought he saw an old man clad in a white cloak walk by, but he could not summon the strength to raise his voice. After that he could not remember anything clearly, despite hearing the horses stirring and nickering near the camp at some point during the night.

When the first sunrays woke him, he felt more tired than the evening before. Had he really slept through the whole night? The last time he had done that, he had been an elfling of twenty years. He shook his head in astonishment and looked around.

What he saw – or more precisely what he did not see – made him give a start. The horses were gone. He got up quickly and called their names, then he whistled, but there was no reaction anywhere. Only the trees were rustling and squeaking warily.

"Legolas, what in Mahal's name are you doing?" Gimli's voice interrupted the Elf's thoughts. He did not have to say anything for his two companions to notice what had happened.

"I told you to rack them up!" Gimli complained instantly, but Aragorn silenced him with a wave of his hand.

"Did you… see what I saw tonight?" the Adan asked hesitantly. "At first I thought it was a dream, but it was too real. An old man in a white cloak?"

Legolas' blood froze. "I saw him," he managed to answer and Gimli gave a slow nod as well.

"So the Rohirrim were right," he said, "Saruman is wandering about in this forest."

"We don't know if it was him," Aragorn objected, but his face showed his worry nevertheless. "We will be on our guard. Let's not waste any time now! If we want to find the Hobbits, the forest is where we must go." With that he collected his numerous weapons that he had put on the ground next to him in order to not stab himself in his sleep and walked off towards the edge of the forest. Legolas and Gimli exchanged a sceptical glance, but what choice did they have? Reluctantly they followed their friend.

Walking the ancient paths of Fangorn made Legolas feel strangely at home. He could still feel the anger and the tension radiating between the trees, but it was no longer directed at the three hunters. Obviously the forest had found them to be no threat, or perhaps its wariness the night before had been due to the mysterious old man's presence. While Aragorn was scanning the ground for traces and Gimli was carefully avoiding breaking any twigs or stepping on anything with the potential to get offended, Legolas breathed in the sweet, mossy scent and listened to the familiar music of the forest. Being under trees once again helped him recover some of his strength. He felt the faint echo of the Eldar's presence who had dwelt in Fangorn in long-forgotten times. He could have liked this place very well, he mused, if he had not come there under such unpleasant circumstances.

Their search went on for hours but it was fruitless, apart from another Orc's carcass and a piece of cut rope. Aragorn interpreted it as a good sign, so they went on looking. After another good while the companions reached the top of a hill where the trees were less thick than in the rest of the forest. They halted and sat down to get some rest.

Gimli lit his pipe and started muttering once more, "Who should have thought that Gimli son of Glóin would ever be seen creeping through the coppice like a deer. I still don't like this bloody forest with its unnatural talking trees one bit, I tell you. My back still aches, I haven't had any decent food in weeks and the possibility of the White Wizard lurking about doesn't make things any more agreeable."

"If you stopped complaining for a change, maybe things would be more agreeable for your companions," Legolas weighed in.

Gimli glared at him and snarled back, "Why don't you go and talk to some trees if my company isn't to your liking?"

The Elf was just about to retaliate when Aragorn got on his feet and hissed, "If you two don't stop quarrelling right now, I swear to both Elbereth and Mahal I'm going to…" He stopped in the middle of his threat and turned around. Legolas followed his look and became aware of the tall grey figure standing between the trees and observing them. He rose and drew his bow while Gimli readied his axe.

"Don't let him speak," Aragorn whispered, "he will put a spell on us."

The old man approached them slowly and addressed them in a low, commanding voice, "Well met indeed, my friends. I wish to speak to you. Would you be so kind as to lower your weapons?" The three hunters did not move an inch. "I said I wish to speak to you," the cloaked figure repeated. "I am curious what an Elf, a Man and a Dwarf are doing in these parts – looking for two Hobbits, I suppose?"

"How does he…?" Gimli blurted, but Aragorn interrupted him by asking the stranger, "Might we know your name before we tell you of our errand?"

The old man let out a chuckle. "My name? Have you not guessed it already? You have heard it before, I think."

"I should say we have," Gimli growled and raised his axe, "Saruman!" The Dwarf took a step forward, as did Aragorn with his sword drawn, and Legolas released an arrow. In the same moment, however, the old man threw his grey cloak from his shoulders and a blinding white light radiated around him.

Legolas saw his arrow burst into flames in the air while both Aragorn and Gimli dropped their weapons. The Elf tried to raise his bow again and reach for another arrow, but suddenly his arms were as heavy as rocks and he could not move them. Panic rose in him. He stared at the white figure and when his eyes slowly got used to the bright light and he could distinguish the man's face, his heart skipped a beat. "Mithrandir," he whispered in utter disbelief.

* * *

><p>"I do not recall the day you became the ruler of this realm!" the King of Greenwood spat at his captain. He rose from his chair, accidentally knocking over the inkwell on the desk in front of him. Tauriel gulped and glared at him – fair enough, she had dropped in on him in his private study in the middle of the night to inform him about the forest fire and request permission to take action, but there was no need to get so irritated. Or was there? She assessed him sceptically.<p>

"I have told you before," he continued while he carelessly slammed several pieces of blotting paper on the ink stain, "no one leaves these halls. The fire is far from here, and even if it comes closer, these walls will shelter us."

"But we cannot let them burn down our forest, my lord!" Tauriel protested, not even caring how panicked her voice sounded.

The king stared at her icily for a few seconds before he replied, "Listen to me, Captain! You are not going to endanger the lives of my people in this hopeless endeavour. This evil has grown too strong to be defeated. I have faced it before."

"And was it not defeated then?" Tauriel blurted. Only a moment later she realised that she had just interrupted the king. Her cheeks instantly turned crimson and the ample study seemed to shrink around her.

To her surprise he did not get angry. Instead he gave her a blank stare, as if the memories were coming back to him, and said quietly, "Indeed it was, but the Free Peoples were much mightier then. We cannot fight back the enemy this time, he has too many henchmen and they are too strong. If we tried, all we would find would be death."

Tauriel forced herself to calm down. Her voice was still trembling when she answered, "Isn't it worse than death to hide and wait and watch our home being destroyed?" Her anger slowly turned into resignation.

"I must do what I think best for the safety of my people," Thranduil gave back, not sounding like a superior in command anymore, but rather like someone who was in desperate need of moral support.

Tauriel bowed her head. "Of course you must, my lord. So I take it we are not going to do anything about the fire?"

The king nodded, which she took as a signal to be dismissed. She turned and walked to the door, but the king's voice stopped her halfway. "You and I have the same goal. Do not think I am holding you back out of cruelty or indifference. I want to protect our land as much as you do, but in this case fighting is the wrong way."

"It is the only way I know," Tauriel replied, not sure if it was her place to talk at all.

"You are a lot like Legolas," the king suddenly said. "Before he left, he told me he could not bear to stay here and watch others fight in his place."

"Yes, he would say that," Tauriel agreed and gave him a faint smile.

There was a short silence until the king requested, "Stay for a bit, will you?" The captain gave him a questioning look, but when she saw his inviting yet firm gesture, she thought it better to obey and stepped back into the study. He signalled her to take a seat, so she walked to the ink-stained desk and sat uncomfortably on the edge of the chair opposite his. She had never been asked to spend more time in the king's presence than necessary for giving reports and taking orders, so the situation was entirely unfamiliar to her. For lack of better ideas she pretended an interest in the carvings of the fireplace.

The king helped himself to a glass of wine and offered Tauriel one as well. She was astounded for a moment and pondered her options, but in the end she decided to try an excuse, hoping it would not offend him. "I thank you, my lord, but I'm on duty."

"Then, as your superior in command, I hereby relieve you from duty," he replied and set a glass filled with red Dorwinion in front of her. She forced a smile and took a sip out of politeness that nearly made her cough. It was a lot stronger than the watered down wine of lower quality she was used to.

The king sat down opposite her and assessed her thoroughly for a while. It took all Tauriel's self-control to stay still on the chair without any gestures that would betray her nervousness. Finally Thranduil requested, "Tell me about Legolas' last weeks in Imladris."

Tauriel took her time to choose what she deemed an appropriate answer and went for the most factual and innocuous one that came to her mind. "He spent a lot of time getting to know his companions and planning the route."

"His companions," the king repeated slowly, "what did you think of them? Do you believe they stand a chance at all?"

Tauriel bit her tongue and answered vaguely, "I believe they stand as good a chance of succeeding as an army of ten thousand would." Which was practically none, as a very cruel part of her mind added, but of course she did not voice that thought. She tried to make her face look indifferent but failed.

Thranduil took a sip of his wine and wanted to know, "Was he confident before they left? Did he seem… at peace?"

Tauriel did not see the point of his questions, but it dawned on her that there might not be a point at all, apart from a father's desire to hear that his child had not been altogether desperate before starting such a murderous mission. "He was aware of the danger, but his will to contribute to the safety of the Free Peoples was stronger than his fear," she replied truthfully. "He felt the obligation as well as the wish to represent the Woodland Realm in this quest."

Seeing the king all but cringe at her last remark, Tauriel regretted her phrasing. Thranduil leaned back in his chair and let out a deep breath. "He felt the obligation – because he thought I had not done enough in the past," he completed Tauriel's point. She did not know how to reply and could not bring herself to look at him.

After what seemed a century he added quietly, "I remember all too well the fate our people suffered the last time we fought for the sake of other lands. This time I chose my own people's well-being over the rest of the world and now I might pay for it with my only child's life. The Valar do have cruel ways of judging our decisions, do they not?" It was not a question – not that Tauriel would have had an answer.

"You must be thinking of the countless arguments you and I had over this point," the king continued. "All the times you wanted to muster the Guard and march off to save the world, whereas I forced you to stay behind closed doors."

"My lord, I wasn't…" she started, but Thranduil waved her excuse away.

"It is the natural thing to think," he stated. "Undoubtedly you are aware that I had the same discussions over and over with Legolas. Well, at least now he has got what he desired, he is right in the thick of the action." A bitter smile curled his lips. He emptied his glass and refilled it straight away. Then he looked up at Tauriel and asked, "Why did you return? I thought I had got to know you quite well in the past seven hundred years, but I would never have expected you to let Legolas embark on such a journey without you." There was no reproach in his tone, but still his words hit Tauriel like a fist.

She gulped and tried to fight the feelings of guilt and worry that were rising once again. "My duty lies with my realm and my king," she gave back mechanically.

Thranduil raised an eyebrow and assessed her sternly but with a flicker of compassion in his eyes. "He persuaded you to stay behind, did he not?"

Again she found herself dumbstruck at the accuracy of his insight. "Lord Elrond wished the company to stay as small as possible in order to move unseen by the enemy," she explained. "But, yes, it is true, Legolas also pleaded me not to follow him."

"And you obliged him despite your wish to protect him," Thranduil added calmly.

Tauriel nodded. "His burden is heavy enough without having to worry about my safety." She felt so miserable and powerless she wanted to scream.

"It is high time for me to acknowledge you truly do love each other, is it not?" the king suddenly said more to himself than to her. Tauriel almost choked on her own breath.

He gave her a long, somewhat melancholic look, but then he blinked a few times and resumed his air of pragmatism. However, there was something warm and comforting in his voice when he stated, "I am glad you have come back to protect our home, Tauriel. You are very much needed here. Both you and Legolas are doing honourably by our people and I am proud of you."

For lack of a sensible answer, Tauriel simply bowed her head to hide her blush and sought refuge in her glass of wine.


	34. White Hands

"Are you sure Gandalf knows what he's doing?" Legolas whispered to Aragorn in Sindarin while glancing warily at the Rohirric soldiers assembled in the Great Hall of Meduseld. 'Great' was a relative term, as he noted when he became aware of the desperate state King Théoden's throne room was in: Walls damaged by water and mould, barely covered by torn tapestries, rats squeaking beneath the straw that lay here and there on the cracked floor tiles, poorly mended banners above the throne – the Elda could feel the decay hanging about in every corner of the once glorious house of kings.

Aragorn followed his friend's look and answered under his breath, "We have no choice but to go with his plan. How much worse can things get here?"

Legolas frowned and nodded. He looked at Gimli, who was walking on his other side and eyeing the assembled King's Guard suspiciously. "Stop glaring!" he hissed at the Dwarf.

Gandalf was a few steps ahead of them, approaching the king on his throne. The Lord of Rohan looked more like a corpse than a ruler. He was wrapped in a heavy fur coat full of holes and stains and was staring straight ahead, seemingly unaware of the guests in his hall. A shiver ran down Legolas' spine when he felt the air of sickness and evil surrounding Théoden, who had once been described as a mighty leader of Men by many tales and songs.

Behind the throne Legolas saw a young woman, graceful and royal in her bearing but with a tired look on her face and an expression of bitterness that did not suit her age. She glanced back and forth between the king and the visitors and placed a comforting hand on the monarch's shoulder, although she seemed well aware that he did not even notice her presence.

Crouching on the steps that led to the throne, there was another man, pale-faced and clad in no less shabby clothes than the others. He observed the new arrivals attentively and although he did not move or speak, he seemed to absorb every detail of the happenings around him.

Two enormous greyish-brown dogs were lying at the king's feet, gritting their teeth and growling like Balrogs at the approaching strangers. On a whispered "Shh!" from the lady they fell silent but continued watching the companions' every movement.

Gandalf came to a stand and addressed the king, "Hail, Théoden son of Thengel! I have returned – and not an hour too early, as I see – to renew our bond of friendship. A storm is brewing in the East and we must all stand together or be destroyed."

The king got up slowly and gave Gandalf a long, wary look. His eyes were veiled, but Legolas could still see a glimpse of great pride and wisdom in them. "I greet you," the lord replied in a husky voice and could not continue before a terrible coughing fit had gone through his entire body. "You expect to be welcomed here, I suppose. But tell me why I should welcome you – all you have ever brought me was ill news." He sank on his chair again and breathed heavily.

In his stead the pale man now rose from the stairs and approached the king. Legolas did not fail to notice the young lady taking a step backwards. The man whispered a few words in Rohirric to Théoden before he turned to Gandalf and said, "Why indeed? It has not yet been five days since my lord's son, Théodred, was slain. Éomer, who should be loyal to his king in such dark hour, defied his orders and was thrown in the dungeons for his treachery. And even now we learn from Gondor that the Dark Lord is stirring in the East. You, bearer of ill news, have never aided us in any way. All you did was seek aid from us. Do you bring men, horses, swords, spears? No? Shall these three ragged wanderers in grey help us defeat the enemy?" He threw a look full of condescension at Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli, yet to a keen eye there was also a glint of fear visible on his face.

Gandalf did not grace the pale man with one word. "The courtesy of your hall is somewhat lessened of late, Théoden son of Thengel," he continued to the king. "Has your loyal advisor, Master Wormtongue, not informed you of who is coming before you? Any lord of Rohan should be honoured to receive such guests. Grey is their raiment, for the Elves clad them, and they have passed through great perils to come to your hall."

The king did not react, but again his advisor was quick to open his mouth. The wizard, however, did not wait for him to speak. He threw a quick glance at his companions, then he cast off his grey cloak and raised his staff. "I have not passed through fire and death to exchange crooked words with the witless worm that you have become!" The man cringed and stumbled backwards at the sight of the power that was about to be unleashed. Gandalf pointed his staff at the king and suddenly darkness fell upon the hall.

Legolas heard the guards nearby draw their weapons and forced his eyes away from the spectacle in front of him. Together with Aragorn and Gimli he did his best to keep the soldiers from hindering Gandalf, which proved to be a challenge, unarmed as they three of them were.

When the light rose again a few seconds later, he could not believe what he saw: Théoden got up from his chair, blinking and looking around in astonishment. He walked a few careful steps, aided by the young lady who stared at him incredulously. The two dogs sniffed their master and followed him. Meanwhile the king's pale-faced advisor did his best to become invisible in the crowd of guards.

"Breathe the free air again, my friend," Gandalf said to the king. The wizard was out of breath himself as if he had just run a mile uphill and his hands were shaking, but he was smiling. "Leave him with me for a while, Lady Éowyn," he addressed the young woman, "I will care for him." Hesitantly she let go of the king's arm and watched him follow Gandalf to the door of the Great Hall. When he stumbled and almost fell over, she ran after him, but on Gandalf's signal Aragorn caught her arm and stopped her.

"What the… Let go of me!" she hissed at him, but Aragorn did not oblige her until Gandalf and the king had left the hall.

One of the dogs started barking and the other snapped at Aragorn's arm, making the Dúnadan curse under his breath. Legolas shook his head and decided to take the matter of the angry dogs in the only capable hands available – his own. He approached them carefully and told them a few soothing words in Sindarin. Both of them stared at him for a moment, but then they left the Dúnadan alone and sniffed Legolas' hands instead. He gave Aragorn a triumphant smirk.

The lady, however, seemed less than pleased about the whole situation. She acknowledged the defection of her dogs with an icy glare and asked the companions in Westron with a thick Rohirric accent, "What is that wizard doing to my uncle? And who are you?"

"We are friends of Rohan," Aragorn hurried to assure her, "I am Aragorn son of Arathorn of the Dúnedain, this is Gimli son of Glóin of Erebor and Legolas Thranduilion of the Woodland Realm. We have come to stand by you against the threat of Mordor, as our companion Gandalf has already told your king."

"I'm done with wizards," she all but spat in direction of the door, "look what that other one, who claimed to be our ally, has done to my family!" She gestured around vaguely, then she let her arms sink and breathed deeply, looking rather desperate but still somewhat belligerent.

Aragorn tried to soothe her once more, "The spell of Saruman has been lifted off your uncle. He will soon be his old self, your brother will be set free, no doubt, and the honour of the House of Eorl will be renewed."

The lady gave him a look full of sarcasm and turned away from him. "Háma!" she called the Captain of the King's Guard who came forward immediately and bowed. "Release Lord Éomer from the dungeons! And see if you can find the king's sword, I have a feeling he may need it." She glanced warily over her shoulder at the visitors. The captain nodded and hurried to fulfil her request whereas the lady whistled for the dogs and went after the king without one more word.

Aragorn gulped, exchanging a baffled look with his friends. Legolas, as hard as he tried, could not suppress a grin.

One could say anything about the Men of Rohan, but they could not be reproached with idleness. The very first thing King Théoden had done after coming back to his senses was banishing Gríma, called the Wormtongue, from his house, suspecting him to be a servant of Saruman. Secondly, right after the king's recovery had become known, negotiations about the further course of action began. Hearing about the Orc packs that were running loose in his land and assaulting his people, Théoden decided to follow Gandalf's counsel, gather as many soldiers as he could and set out that same day to confront the army of Isengard.

Presently the companions as well as Théoden and his nephew were sitting around the large wooden table in the Great Hall, discussing the situation. While Gandalf was telling the king all he knew about Saruman's treachery and Aragorn was absorbed in a discussion with Éomer, Legolas was busy petting the two giant dogs that had obviously chosen him as their new best friend. Out of politeness he had tried a bite or two of the food offered to him, but the mere smell of the smoked bacon, the coarse bread and the blue mould cheese made his stomach turn. Next to him Gimli was devouring impressive amounts of the offered food, along with his third stein of beer.

Watching Dwarves eat was never a particularly agreeable business, so he turned to Lady Éowyn instead, who was standing a few steps away, discreetly observing the guests and signalling a nearby servant to refill steins or plates whenever needed. Now and then she threw curious glances at the weapons the companions had brought, taking special interest in Aragorn's sword. The Dúnadan watched her from the corner of his eye for a good while and when Éomer excused himself to ask the king something, he addressed her carefully, "Are you interested in weaponry, my lady?"

Éowyn gave a start and a slight blush appeared on her cheeks. "I am," she admitted and stepped closer. "Growing up in a house full of warriors has left its mark on me. If you will pardon my question: Is this a sword of Elvish making? The craftsmanship resembles nothing I have ever seen."

Aragorn, undoubtedly relieved not to see her offended anymore, unsheathed his sword and placed it on the table, provoking sceptical yet admiring looks from both the king and Éomer. "It was first forged by Dwarves and passed through the hands of many a warrior of Elves and Men," he explained, "but it broke a long time ago and has recently been remade by the smiths of Rivendell. You may have heard its story." Éowyn's eyes widened and it was obvious how much self-restraint it took her not to touch the sword. Legolas hid his chuckle behind a cough and gave Aragorn a light kick under the table to make him stop bragging, but the Dúnadan ignored it and went on as casually as he could, "It was last wielded by Elendil and then by his son Isildur, who used it to cut the One Ring off Sauron's hand."

Éowyn's jaw dropped, which made her look very unladylike for a moment. "Are you saying this is Narsil?" she uttered, forgetting all her manners and brushing her fingers over the sword hilt.

"Careful!" her brother stopped her, got up and grabbed her hand. "Don't cut yourself!" The young lady gave him a death glare like a goblin from the deepest pits of Moria. Legolas had to bury his fingernails in his palm to keep himself from laughing out loud.

"Don't worry, I think your sister knows what she's doing," Aragorn reassured Éomer, who frowned but sat down again. To Éowyn he continued, "It is now called Andúril, the Flame of the West, and it has yet to prove its worth against the foe it once defeated."

"How magnificent," the lady whispered, "to lay eyes on the very blade that is the subject of so many tales. And to speak to the heir of Númenor himself…"

Éomer raised his hand and said firmly, "Leave Lord Aragorn alone, will you? He has no time to waste on our personal entertainment. Why don't you go and see what provisions our host can take on the journey to Isengard?"

She graced her brother with a victorious snort. "I could tell you right now. You would know that I took inventory a month ago and keep an exact list of all our stocks – food, raw materials and weapons – if you had paid any attention to what I told you the last time you dropped by between your Orc hunting trips."

"Éowyn, that's enough!" the king interrupted his niece. She mumbled an apology and left the hall, not without gifting her brother with another frown.

Éomer turned to Aragorn and said, "Excuse my sister, she's little more than a child – a fairly adventurous one I should add, rides horses like a man and wields weapons… It is hard for her to stay behind closed doors while war is brewing and she has not seen much of the world, so naturally every stranger is fascinating to her." He smiled apologetically.

"I do not mind at all," Aragorn started, but the king weighed in again.

"I believe she does deserve more credit for what she does day in and day out. I am ashamed how incapable I was of ruling my own people, but she kept this entire city functioning while I could not. Éomer, I think I shall leave her in charge while we are gone. She can rule the city in my stead and lead our people to Dunharrow, where they may defend themselves as long as they can if we fail. She will bear my title and my responsibilities, she has earned that honour."

"Oh, well, if you say so, my lord…" Éomer muttered sceptically and took a sip of beer.

Legolas looked back and forth between the king, his nephew, Aragorn and the door that had just closed behind the lady. This was going to get very interesting, he suspected.

* * *

><p>Rain was pouring down Legolas' face and the icy wind was numbing his hands. He tightened his grip around his bow and stared down into the black night from his post on the battlement of the Hornburg. He could hear the archers whispering to each other – he did not need to understand Rohirric to know what they felt.<p>

King Théoden's company had set out to challenge Saruman's army in Isengard, but on their way they had encountered a messenger with the most alarming news: The forces guarding the lands in the West had been overwhelmed by Orcs and most of the people living there had been slain or driven from their villages. Many had found refuge in the Hornburg, the mighty stronghold of Helm's Deep. Orcs were now marching towards the fortress and Erkenbrand, Lord of the Westfold, had disappeared on his mission to muster soldiers and defend his lands. On hearing this dreadful news, Théoden had decided to abandon his plan and ride to Helm's Deep instead.

There they were now, assembled on the battlements and behind the barred gates, waiting for the attack to begin. Messengers had reported an all but invincible number of enemies, both Orcs and wild Men of Dunland. With the few soldiers the Rohirrim had there was no chance of defeating such a foe, but what choice did they have? They could not and would not let the Orcs march further east to Dunharrow, where the rest of the people of Rohan would take refuge, without at least trying to hold them back. It was a hopeless endeavour, yet it was already about to begin and Legolas was right in the middle of it.

He neither wanted to look at the frightened men next to him nor at the approaching hordes at the foot of the fortress, so he tried to ignore the horrid battle cries of the Orcs and fixed his eyes at the sky. Not a single star could be seen – not even Elbereth wanted to look at this hideous spectacle, he thought bitterly.

A movement in the crowd and a grumpy muttering told him that Gimli had finally found him. The Dwarf carried a Rohirric shield and his axe was freshly polished. He pushed himself a way through the archers and came to a stand next to Legolas, looking like a fortress on two legs. After assessing his friend thoroughly from head to toe he remarked, "They're going to hack you to pieces. Get yourself a mail coat and a helmet, by Dúrin's beard!"

Legolas shook his head. "Burden myself with such a prison of steel and become immobile as a statue? No, thank you, I prefer being able to move."

"As you wish," the Dwarf grumbled, not without adding a cough that sounded suspiciously like "Elves!"

Legolas grinned to himself. "What are you carrying there?" he wanted to know, pointing at Gimli's shield that was adorned by a painting of a white steed. "I thought you didn't like horses."

"Right you are, yet I would sooner bear a horse than be borne by one," Gimli agreed. "Besides, the man-at-arms told me this shield was made for King Théoden himself when he was a boy. I think there's no disgrace in carrying such a device."

"No indeed," Legolas admitted. "Where is the king?"

Gimli looked around discreetly to make sure the men were not listening and answered under his breath, "Up on the watchtower with Aragorn. They're still hoping for Gandalf to return, but I don't think he will be back on time."

Legolas nodded and frowned. "Even if he did and brought two thousand men, every law of warfare is against us. All that can save us is a miracle."

"Mmh," was Gimli's less than eloquent reply, "cheer up, my lad! I say, this mountain is a good place for battle, much more to my liking than those endless plains. These rocks are tough – give me a year and a hundred decent craftsmen from Erebor and I could turn this fortress into a stronghold that armies would beak upon."

"Only we don't have a year or a hundred Dwarves," Legolas weighed in. "But while we're at it: I would much rather have some decent archers from Greenwood. These Rohirrim may know how to handle a bow and arrow… in their way." He glanced sceptically at the men around him. "Still, they're too few and it's dark."

"See? I don't need to worry about lighting!" Gimli contributed. "My axe finds its goal by day and night!" He waved his weapon to emphasise his statement and two or three men took a careful step backwards.

Legolas raised an eyebrow, grateful for any distraction from the queasy feeling in his stomach. "Are you claiming your axe is superior to my bow?"

The Dwarf planted himself in front of his friend and tried to appear as tall and imposing as possible. "I am, definitely."

Noticing the amused glances of the Rohirric archers nearby, Legolas crossed his arms and gave Gimli a long, thorough stare. "If that is so, Master Dwarf, I challenge you to a competition. Whoever kills the most Orcs is the winner and will publicly acknowledge the superiority of the other's weapon." He managed his most convincing arrogant smirk, a skill he had copied from his father and perfected over the centuries.

He was interrupted by a deafening roar and the noise of the Orcs' drums. The host was moving faster now and he could see a formation of archers drawing their bows. On the watchtower the king's voice could be heard, giving the order to get ready. The leaders of the different units repeated the command. The men surrounding Legolas and Gimli drew their bows and for a moment time seemed to stop.

"Very well," Gimli whispered, "may the better warrior win! Just try not to get yourself killed before we can compare our scores." With that he slapped Legolas on the shoulder and turned his eyes towards the approaching attackers.

"The same goes for you," the Elf replied and drew an arrow.

* * *

><p>Darkness everywhere, cold rain and icy wind, a fortress of Men carved into a mountain, savage roars and the deafening noise of steel clashing against steel, then a faint silver glint in the dark, the soft swishing sound of a blade cutting through the air and the sudden sensation of a warm liquid pouring down cold skin.<p>

Tauriel woke with a start and needed a moment to come to her senses. Another bad dream, nothing more, she told herself and waited for her heart to stop racing. The minutes passed, but the images would not leave her alone. Why would she dream of a battle between Men and Orcs? She shook her head and resolved she could as well get up, restless as the dream had made her.

She threw on a tunic and the first pair of leggings she found in the wooden chest by her bed. Her boots were lying somewhere under the table where she had kicked them off the evening before. Next to them she found a quill she had been looking for the other day. She really needed to get into the habit of tidying her chamber now and then, she acknowledged. Her lacking sense of order when it came to her own belongings, as opposed to her strictness regarding the soldiers' discipline, had always been one of Legolas' favourite reasons to tease her. She smiled to herself.

As there was nothing else to do in the middle of the night, she started picking up all the items that were dispersed on the floor and put them where they belonged. When she was done, she even took the seldom-used broom out of its lonely corner, swept half-heartedly from one side of her small chamber to the other and was all but impressed by the amount of dust that had accumulated. Who could blame her – she hardly spent any of her waking hours in her chamber and when she slept she could not care less.

When there was nothing left to clean – which did not take long, given the limited space – she decided to go for a walk to distract herself from the disturbing dream that was still lurking somewhere in a corner of her mind. She left her chamber and passed the corridors of the Guard's quarters quietly. From some of the chambers she could hear voices and see flickers of light, but most of them were dark and silent.

When she reached the courtyard, a cold spring breeze welcomed her. The sky was cloudy, but at least the rain had stopped. The two guards at the main gate greeted her with a nod, which she returned and walked on in silence. From one of the various palace entrances she could hear someone playing the harp and singing.

Without thinking much, she directed her steps to the healing quarters. She remembered vaguely that Nimiel was working the night shift – judging from experience her mother would probably be just as bored as she mostly was during these idle hours. They did not get to spend much time together lately, so Tauriel took the opportunity to pay a spontaneous visit.

As expected, Nimiel was sitting in her little office by the light of a candle, drinking tea and browsing less than enthusiastically through a pile of lists. When Tauriel knocked on the half-open door, she gave a start and looked at her daughter in surprise. "Tauriel, how nice!" she greeted her with a broad smile. "What brings you here at this unusual hour? I hope this is a mere social visit?"

"Yes, it is, I'm not ill," Tauriel reassured her. "I couldn't sleep and remembered you were here tonight. May I come in?"

Nimiel nodded and emptied the second chair at the little table by putting the box of linen and the three rolls of parchment that had been stored there on the floor. Tauriel sat down and accepted the cup of peppermint tea Nimiel offered her. She took in the refreshing smell and felt it chase away the last gloomy thoughts.

"You cannot sleep," Nimiel repeated while pouring another cup for herself as well. "I wish I could say the same of myself, but night shifts tend to have quite the opposite effect on me. Anyway – is there a special reason that is keeping you up?"

Tauriel stirred her tea and contemplated whether she should tell her mother about the disturbing dream or not, but as Nimiel had the uncanny ability to guess her thoughts anyway, she decided to spill it out. "I keep having strange dreams lately. Tonight I saw a battle between an army of Edain and a horde of Orcs. The emblem of the Edain was a horse and the Orcs bore the sign of a white hand and they fought for a fortress in the mountains. Everything was so lively that I thought I was there myself. I don't know, it's probably just the strain." She forced a grin and took a sip of tea.

Nimiel let out a sigh and nodded. "Yes, these are hard times, especially for you."

"If I could at least go out and do something," Tauriel complained. "We've got a perfectly capable Guard, the soldiers have never been in better shape, but the king is locking us in while all sorts of beasts creep through our lands and set our forest on fire! It's so frustrating, there's nothing worse than this eternal waiting." She rested her head in her hands and rubbed her eyes.

"I know," Nimiel agreed, "the waiting is what drains your spirit the most. Not knowing what exactly you are waiting for, only that it is something terrible, and being uncertain if you are going to survive to see better times… Oh, sorry, never mind." She had noticed Tauriel's bewildered look and fell silent.

"These walls are thick and no enemy has ever broken them before," Tauriel tried to say something helpful, "we should be safe in here."

Nimiel gave her strange look and answered after a pause, "That was what King Dior said before Doriath was destroyed. That was what we kept telling ourselves when we were hiding in that cave in Lindon during the War of Wrath before the Orcs came and…" She stopped, taking two deep breaths, and emptied her cup of tea with slightly trembling hands. Tauriel watched her in silence, unsure how to behave.

Fortunately Nimiel had already regained her composure and gave her daughter a faint smile. "Do not listen to me, my dear, I have seen far too many things no one should see in their lifetime. But all of that was long ago and, as you see, I survived it, so who am I to spread desperation?"

Tauriel returned the smile, far from convinced. She started stirring her tea again and avoided Nimiel's look for a good while, until she could not bear the awkward silence any longer and blurted, "How did you cope with it all? I can see our people getting more frightened and impatient every day, although we have only been forced to stay in the caves for such a short time. How are we going to get through this?"

Nimiel reached for Tauriel's hand across the table and said, "By holding on to each other. I survived because of the people who were with me. They were my reason to stay alive and I am sure I was the same for some of them as well. When one of us lost hope, we gave it back to each other, and that is what we must do now."

"Yes, I suppose we must," Tauriel replied and nodded, squeezing Nimiel's hand. Then she asked out of a sudden curiosity, "What happened to the people who were with you then?"

Nimiel's look became absent for a few seconds, as if she was calling her memories back from the depths of her mind. "Well, my father was slain in the Battle of the Thousand Caves," she eventually started. "He did not bear a weapon, he was only a healer who had come to help, but the sons of Fëanor and their followers had no mercy. My mother, my brother and I managed to escape along with the king's daughter and a few others, but soon afterwards my mother got weary of life in Arda and sailed to the West. My brother was with me for a long time. We went to Lindon together and stayed there long after the War of Wrath, until he and his wife decided to go to the Undying Lands as well. Oh, we argued a lot about whether I would follow them or not, but in the end he agreed to leave me. Then I came to this forest because I knew some of the people of Doriath had settled here. It was a great joy to see them again and although I would very much like to be with my family once more, I have never regretted coming here."

"Are there many of them left? I mean, of the people who fled Doriath and hid in Lindon with you? Some of the Sindar who live here now came from other places, didn't they?" Tauriel wanted to know.

"Oh yes, they did," Nimiel affirmed. "Actually, now that you are asking me, there is only one left. How strange, I never thought of that." She seemed genuinely surprised at first, but she shook it off a moment later and helped herself and Tauriel to some more tea. With a very emphatic and rather odd cheerfulness in her voice she asked, "Have I ever told you about my journey from Lindon to the Greenwood?"

"Uhm…" was all Tauriel could answer, given Nimiel's sudden change of topic. In fact, she had heard the story about the journey roughly a hundred times and she was certain Nimiel was perfectly aware of that, but for the sake of her mother's and her own peace of mind she replied, "I would very much like to hear it." After all, every distraction from the current situation was welcome.

* * *

><p>Legolas gritted his teeth when the Rohirric healer squeezed the wound on his forearm. It was not so much the pain but rather the old man's dirty hands and the suspicious sharp-smelling paste he intended to apply to the bleeding cut that made the Elda change his mind abruptly. "Thank you, Master Glaedwine, I think your care is more needed by your kinsmen than by me." He drew his arm back and got up, hiding his slight repulsion behind a polite bow of his head.<p>

The healer frowned and shrugged. "As you wish," he grumbled and signalled the next injured soldier to come closer. Legolas inspected his wound once more and resolved it would most likely heal best on its own, so he covered it up with the rest of his torn sleeve and left it alone.

While he made his way across the courtyard of the Hornburg he let his eyes wander and for the first time it dawned on him what a miracle he had witnessed a few hours before. He was alive, as well as most of the Rohirric soldiers. The battle that had looked so hopeless had been turned around and won. As always, Gandalf had taken his time, but in the end he had returned with good news for once. He had found Erkenbrand, Lord of the Westfold, who had been able to gather enough riders to fight back Saruman's army.

But not only the Istar and the brave men of the Westfold deserved credit for the victory. There was one riddle no one had been able to solve yet: During the night it seemed that a small forest had grown in the plain before the mountains where there had been nothing but grass and rocks the other day. Legolas was absolutely certain there had been no trees before and although he could only see them from the distance, he sensed the same strange air around them that he remembered from Fangorn Forest.

Still, that mystery had to wait until the more urgent issues had been sorted out. Large parts of the stronghold had been destroyed or set on fire – horrified, Legolas remembered the dreadful moment when the Orcs had blown a hole into the thick rock wall with some sort of explosive device no one had ever seen before – but now the fires had been extinguished and the men were already starting to mend the damage their fortress had suffered. Gimli had been right then, the Hornburg could indeed use some dwarven craftsmenship.

Legolas froze in the middle of his movement. Now that the chaos of battle was over he suddenly realised he had not seen Gimli since the explosion. He forced his mind away from the dreadful thoughts that wanted to overwhelm him and quickened his steps towards the entrance of the main building where he hoped to find his friends and the king.

When he entered, he saw Aragorn, Gandalf, the Théoden, Éomer and Erkenbrand, all assembled around the crude fireplace, looking weary but not gravely injured. "Legolas, there you are at last!" Aragorn exclaimed. "Where have you been?"

"I assisted the healers in recovering the wounded at the gate and had my own wound tended to," he explained hastily. "Have you seen Gimli?"

Aragorn and the others looked at him in astonishment. "I thought he was with you," Gandalf answered.

Legolas shook his head, anticipating the worst. "No, I haven't seen him since midnight. I might go and search him if you will allow me…" The question was mainly directed at the king, but it was Éomer who gave the answer.

"I would not worry too much about your friend the Dwarf," he told him with a grin. "I overheard the men saying they had seen him wandering the caves. He must have found his way there after the explosion and has not returned since. I assume they must be rather fascinating to his kind."

Legolas felt a wave of both relief and anger overflow him that must have been plainly visible on his face because Aragorn started chuckling and gave the Elf a slap on the shoulder before he returned to his conversation with the king.

"I will send out riders to summon all men capable of bearing arms to come to Edoras at once," Théoden said. "The rest of the people will be ordered to go to Dunharrow, where they shall stay until the danger hast past – if it passes."

Gandalf nodded. "Indeed your people should seek refuge as soon as possible. I myself, however, will ride to Isengard and speak to Saruman and if it is at all possible, I shall be glad to have your company." He was addressing not only Théoden but all the present people. After a moment he turned to Aragorn and Legolas and added quietly, "Besides, there is the matter of the mysterious forest that has appeared out of nowhere. It might have something to do with the strange happenings in Fangorn forest, as you undoubtedly remember."

They were just pondering the decision whether to follow him on his detour or not when the door flung open and a familiar figure, all covered in black Orc blood but looking rather cheerful, came scuffling towards them. "Greetings, my friends!" Gimli's loud voice resounded in the hall and Legolas had never been so happy to hear it.

The Dwarf was welcomed back by all of them and while Théoden and Gandalf were still debating whether to go to Isengard or straight back to Edoras, he pushed Legolas a few steps aside and asked him quietly, "Well, Master Elf, what's your final score?"

Legolas had to think for a moment before he understood what Gimli was talking about. In the heat of the battle he had almost forgotten about the silly bet. "Forty-one," he eventually declared, "and yours?"

The Dwarf took his time to reply. Like the night before on the battlement, he planted himself in front of his friend, shouldered his axe ostentatiously and announced with unveiled pride, "Forty-two! What do you say now?"

Legolas tilted his head and gave back with as much dignity as he could, "Well, my friend, I will give you this one. Truth be told, I'm too relieved to see you on your feet as to mind my loss. By the way, where were you? Éomer said you wandered the caves?"

"Caves!" Gimli exclaimed, instantly forgetting the competition. "Is that what the Rohirrim call them? That word doesn't do them justice. Caverns, Legolas, glittering and shimmering in all imaginable colours, halls as huge as in the ancient Realm of Khazad-dûm, stalagmites of pure crystal, veins of ore and gem, still lakes that mirror the delicate shapes above them…"

"Yes, yes, I see," Legolas interrupted his friend. He was as overwhelmed by the sudden flood of words as the Dwarf seemed by his discovery. "I have never heard you speak like this before," the Elf added, smiling and studying Gimli's enraptured expression curiously.

"Oh, my plain words can never describe this place, this magnificent artwork of Mahal! I say, the caves your people live in are mere dark holes compared to the wonders hidden under these rocks. If only you had seen them – Legolas, you must come and see them! But not now, there is not enough time. Listen, if we come through this war, we must return here and visit the caverns together."

Gimli's utter amazement made a broad smile spread over Legolas' face. "Of course, let's make a pact: I will go to the caverns with you – although I shall be very much relieved to see the daylight again afterwards – and you will go to Fangorn Forest with me. I wish to walk under those ancient trees again and rest in their shades and listen to their stories. So we will trade a favour for a favour. How about it?"

Gimli evaluated his options for a few seconds, but in the end his desire to share the beauty of the caverns with his friend defeated his dislike for talking trees. "All right, so be it," he agreed and they shook hands to seal their pact.

* * *

><p>Belegor the healer shook his head in disapproval and gave Nimiel an almost reproachful look. "Only two more bunches of mistletoe and one box of athelas leaves! How are we supposed to work like this?" He climbed down the ladder in the storage room of the healing quarters and crossed his arms.<p>

Nimiel made no effort to hide her annoyance. "What am I supposed to do? You know as well as I do that we are not allowed to leave the palace to get fresh supplies. We will have to economise."

"What happens when there's nothing left?" Belegor retaliated. "Will we treat our patients with wine and bloodletting, like the Edain, or will we resort to sorcery, like the Dwarves?"

"I have no idea!" Nimiel shouted back at him. Her voice was trembling when she added, "How should I know?" She had not raised her voice to any of her fellow healers in centuries, but to tell the truth, it did not feel half as bad as it should to give vent to her frustration, although poor Belegor did not deserve it. "Forgive me," she apologised immediately, "I am just as overwhelmed with this entire situation as you are."

He nodded placably and suggested, "Can't you try and explain our dilemma to the king? With an escort of guards we could go to the forest, collect the things we need and come straight back. It would be to the benefit of all and I'm sure he will understand…"

Nimiel simply rolled her eyes and let out a snort. She was in no mood to address the king. In fact, she had successfully avoided him all the while since his return from the Orc massacre.

Belegor raised an eyebrow and inquired, "Nimiel, what in the name of Estë is the matter with you? Has the king offended you in some way?"

"No!" she hurried to deny the obvious. "Why would you think that?"

"Because you have done everything in your power to avoid him for the last few weeks," Belegor pointed out with painful accuracy. "You even made me tend to his dragon scars and I don't need to tell you that was the longest half hour of my life."

Against her will a chuckle escaped Nimiel's mouth. "Why? Did he complain a lot?"

"Well, if you must know, he called me incompetent," the healer admitted, visibly offended.

Nimiel tried to soothe him by patting his shoulder and stating ironically, "Poor Belegor, I am deeply sorry I submitted you to such distress. Well then, to make it up to you I will do my best to convince the king to let us get new supplies." Even while saying it she regretted her decision.

When she knocked on the door of Thranduil's study, Nimiel almost hoped he would be too busy to receive her, but luck was not on her side. He told her to enter, so she took one more deep breath and pushed the door open. How difficult could it be to speak to him about a purely professional matter, even after the inappropriate incident a while ago?

Quite difficult, as she realised immediately when she saw the uneasy expression on the king's face. "Lady Nimiel," he welcomed her from behind his desk in a tone so polite it almost made her cringe, "how may I help you?"

"Good morning, my lord," she started, sticking to her plan to get this conversation over with as quickly as possible. "I have come to request permission for the healers to leave the palace in order to refill our supplies. We are running short of the most essential ingredients and we will not be able to react accordingly, should an… emergency occur."

"An emergency of what kind?" the king deemed it necessary to inquire.

Nimiel rolled her yes. "Well, how would I know? A war, perhaps?" she gave back, gesturing vaguely.

Thranduil let his shoulders sink and assessed her through half-closed eyelids. "I cannot let the healers out, it would not be safe, not even with an escort of thirty guards. There are Orcs lurking in the forest, not to mention the spiders that have multiplied."

"Would it be safer to risk a battle without having the means to heal the wounded?" Nimiel gave back. When he did not answer, she remembered her conversation with Tauriel some days earlier and added, "As far as I recall, you were quite grateful for my supply of athelas when we were hiding in Lindon, am I right?"

Now the king glared at her, but his face softened again soon enough. "Lindon, hmm? I must say, my lady, it is a rather foul tactic to exploit such old memories in your favour."

"Anything that works," Nimiel stated pragmatically. "So?"

"No," came the not very eloquent but unmistakable answer. No explanation, no friendly banalities, just a plain and simple no. By the time it had sunk in, Nimiel fumed.

"Thank you very much for your insightful judgement!" she hissed. "Do you think I am asking you for my own amusement? If we have no herbs, we might as well close the Houses of Healing altogether. We can do nothing, nothing at all, if the worst should happen – which is not unlikely, is it, my lord?"

Thranduil shook his head. "No indeed, it is not unlikely at all. Very well, you may have your permission and your escort, if this is the only way to appease you."

"Thank you," Nimiel replied, a little surprised by the sudden indulgence. "Right then, I wish you a good day." With that she bowed her head and was about to leave, when she heard him call her back. "Yes, my lord?" she asked, already dreading what was ahead of her.

The king leaned back in his chair and gave her an exhausted look. "Are you ever going to talk to me again?"

She shifted from one leg to the other when she answered rather redundantly, "I am talking to you. In fact, I have just been talking to you for…"

"For the love of Eru, let us leave out the platitudes," he cut her short, signalling her to sit down.

Hesitantly she obliged him. She did not like the mood he was in and she did not trust herself to remain calm and polite either. But again, better address the matter now than carry it around for much longer, she resolved. "All right, let us talk. Sparing you any platitudes, I will cut straight to the point: What in the names of all the Valar were you thinking, kissing me just like that, out of nowhere?"

For a moment the king was dumbfounded by the blunt question, but then his expression changed and he looked far less menacing when he replied, "To be honest, I was not thinking much at all. I was overwhelmed by your outburst, I would not have expected to find you so… moved by my return. I was exhausted, I had just fought a battle – I suppose all of that made me forget the boundaries of etiquette that usually prevail over my heart in your presence. I do not regret what I did, it may have been clumsy and badly timed, but it was an honest expression of my feelings for you."

Nimiel had not counted on such openness and although a part of her felt warm and happy about it, she could not deny that it scared her. Apparently Thranduil could read her struggle plainly from her face. "You will not pretend to be surprised now, will you?" he asked.

"Of course not…" she started and fell silent again. There was a long pause in which Nimiel endured a violent inner battle and Thranduil gave her all the time she needed to fight it. At last she looked at him again and said, "Thranduil, I… We should not even think about such things. I feel we are disgracing every value our people have ever lived by. We are both married, widowed or not. We are supposed to meet our spouses again when they are released from the Halls of Mandos or when our souls go there. We cannot betray them in such a manner, it is against the law of the Valar."

"We cannot or will not?" Thranduil interrupted her gently. "Eru knows I loved Merilissel with all my heart and soul, but it has been seven hundred years since she left this world and even if I do see her again, which no one knows for certain, she will not be the same and neither will I."

His words reflected Nimiel's own feelings about her husband so accurately it gave her a little sting. She kept silent.

"Is it your wish to pretend we never had this conversation and to go back to what we were?" Thranduil asked eventually.

"No!" she heard herself reply. "You know exactly that I feel the same about you, but it all frightens me. I need to get used to the idea of having to betray all my values for the sake of… love." She paused, then another thought came to her mind. "Besides, is not our judgement a little clouded by the current circumstances? We may be tempted to rush our decisions with all the danger waiting on our doorstep, but that would not be wise. Please, give me some time to settle my thoughts."

Thranduil let out a deep breath, then he managed a smile. "Very well, you shall have all the time you want."

They looked at each other in silence for a good while until Nimiel brought herself to get up, followed by the king. He walked her to the door and opened it for her, bidding her goodbye with a bow of his head.

"Just promise me one thing," he said and a little smirk curled his lips, "stop avoiding me and please never let Belegor come anywhere near my face again."

Nimiel let out a short laugh. "I promise." She took a step towards him and brushed her fingertips over his cheek. He caught her hand and held it tight for a moment before he released her and closed the door behind her.


	35. Red Blood

Compared to all the strange happenings Legolas had recently witnessed, riding through the night with a crowd of Edain, a muttering Dwarf behind him on the horse and one of the legendary palantíri of Fëanor in his friend's saddle bag seemed unsettlingly normal. He remembered the meeting with Saruman the other day. The miserable image of the once mighty and honourable Istar, corrupted by evil and bereft of his power, sent a shiver down his spine.

The next encounter that he would not have foreseen in his wildest dreams had been the one with Fangorn the Ent, called Treebeard by the mortals. Among the Eldar it was the common belief that the Ents had passed into the realm of legend long ago, so Legolas was still struggling to wrap his mind around the fact that he had spoken to one of them and even gained his approval to visit Fangorn Forest with Gimli.

Of course there was a third event that came to his mind, the most joyful one of all: Merry and Pippin had returned to the Fellowship after their unpleasant adventure with the Orcs. Granted, Pippin had not lost his tendency to cause trouble. He had been too curious to resist the temptation of the palantír, revealing himself to Sauron by looking into it and possibly making him believe that he was the infamous Ring-bearer. Consequently Gandalf had taken him to Minas Tirith in secret, where the Dark Lord would hopefully not look for him.

The others were riding back to the Hornburg, from where they would most likely go to Edoras to muster more soldiers and then to the White City as well. Merry, who had befriended King Théoden for some curious reason, still remained with the group. He was currently riding with Aragorn and Legolas could hear the Hobbit's chatter all along the way.

After a few more miles a rider from the rear of the company came galloping forward and reported that another group of travellers on horseback was following them. Théoden gave the order to halt and in a few minutes' time Legolas could see the strangers approach them. There were about thirty of them, mostly tall bearded Men in grey cloaks, but also two Eldar, as far as he recognised.

Éomer whispered something to the king, then he came forth and addressed them, "Halt! Who rides in Rohan?"

Their leader stopped his horse, dismounted and took off his hood. "Rohan? Are we finally here?" he repeated in a deep, coarse voice. "That is good news. I am Halbarad of the Dúnedain and my company is searching our chieftain, named Aragorn son of Arathorn. We were told to look for him in Rohan."

"You have found him!" Aragorn's voice came from the middle of the crowd. He jumped off his horse, leaving Merry a little helpless on the large animal's back, and made his way to the stranger. Legolas saw both of them smiling broadly before they embraced each other. "My friend," Aragorn said, "of all the fortunes I could have hoped for this is the most welcome."

To the king he explained, "There is no need to worry, my lord, these men belong to my kin. With your permission I will have them explain their purpose in coming here."

Théoden welcomed the Dúnedain and Halbarad explained they had been sent out from Imladris to assist Aragorn and his companions. "Here are two more old friends you may recognise," he continued and signalled the Eldar to come forth. Legolas glanced curiously in their direction and a grin spread over his face when he realised they were Elladan and Elrohir, Lord Elrond's twin sons. They greeted Aragorn heartily and when they became aware of Legolas' presence, both of them returned his grin in an almost frighteningly identical manner and signalled him they would come and talk to him in a minute.

Halbarad exchanged a few more words with Aragorn, then he approached the king and paid his respects before requesting permission to join the company. As expected, Théoden was glad to accept Aragorn's kinsmen into his group and soon the journey continued. Legolas ignored Gimli's protest and brought his horse to walk behind Aragorn and Halbarad and between the two Elves. "Mae govannen, mellyn nin!" he greeted them.

After exchanging a few obligatory friendly words, Elrohir threw a sceptical glance at Gimli and remarked, "It seems you changed your mind about this particular companion of yours – or is it just that his legs are too short to ride a horse of his own?" Legolas frowned and Elladan shot his brother a glare.

"To tell the truth, both your assumptions are correct," Legolas replied, thanking the Valar that Gimli was still refusing to learn even the basics of Sindarin and therefore could not follow the conversation.

Elrohir laughed and gave Legolas a slap on the back before he said to Gimli in Westron, "It is a pleasure to see you again, Master Dwarf – and still alive, that is." Gimli replied with a grunt and a forced smirk.

"So, what news from the North?" Legolas quickly changed the subject.

The brothers shared a serious look, then Elladan answered, "The shadow is spreading everywhere, as far as we have heard. Imladris has been spared so far, but…" He fell silent, fixing his eyes straight ahead.

Legolas felt his throat tightening. "Do you happen to know anything about the situation in Greenwood?" he brought himself to ask.

"Well, our father is trying to maintain contact with Greenwood and Lothlórien," Elrohir started hesitantly, "but he has not heard anything from King Thranduil in… a while. Easterlings and Orcs are roaming the lands east of Hithaeglir, so it is likely they have entered Greenwood as well." Legolas nodded slowly but said nothing in return.

"Come now," Elladan tried to cheer him up, "your caves are a stronghold beyond compare and they are well-protected by your Guard."

"Yes, I guess so," Legolas answered absently. He forced himself not to think about what could happen and directed his attention on a strange item sticking out of Halbarad's saddle bag. It was a staff with pieces of furled black cloth attached to one end. "What's this extraordinary affair?" he wanted to know.

Elrohir shrugged. "A banner of some sort, Arwen wove it for Aragorn. Which reminds me, we mustn't forget to tell him the message from Adar." The last part was directed at his brother, who answered with a discreet nod.

"How is your sister?" Legolas inquired out of mere politeness, but the concerned looks of the brothers showed him that he had unintentionally hit a sore spot.

"Worried sick, that's how she is," Elrohir gave back. "She hardly sleeps and it's obvious that the decay all around her is affecting her. Father says she should sail west, but she refuses. All because of that confounded Dúnadan!" he added under his breath.

Elladan shook his head and objected, "She still has hope – do you want to blame her for that?"

"Hope for what?" Elrohir grumbled. "Even if the Free Peoples succeed and she weds Aragorn, she will have a few years of happiness, but eventually he will die and she will be left to grief and death herself. There is no hope on these shores, for none of our kind."

He had spoken slightly louder at the end and Legolas, who was riding behind Aragorn, could clearly see the wince that went through the Dúnadan's body. He exchanged a short side-glance with Elladan, who turned to Elrohir and hissed, "Why are you still here then?"

His brother hesitated for a moment, then he let out a snort and mumbled, "Ugh, spare me!" All three of them kept silent for a long while after that.

* * *

><p>Gimli and Legolas stared at Aragorn in bewilderment and could not say anything for what felt like a century. The Dúnadan glanced at them grimly from the fireplace in the Great Hall of the Hornburg where he had invited the two of them to tell them about his next plan. "I know it's madness and the Valar know I'm not looking forward to it," he stated. "Still, it is the way I must go. I have known it for long and Lord Elrond's message only reminded me that now is the time."<p>

Legolas swallowed the lump in his throat and said, "But how? I mean, yes, it is said that Isildur's heir can command the Dead Men of Dunharrow, but what if it is only a legend? What if those ghosts do the same to you that they have done to every living man who has ever entered their realm? If you fall, we might as well surrender to Sauron altogether. All our hopes are on you."

"No pressure there," Gimli mumbled into his beard, earning himself a glare from Legolas.

Aragorn shook his head decidedly and all of a sudden his voice became firm. "I will master them as I have mastered the palantír. I looked into it, just before now, and I saw great danger approaching Gondor. And I also saw… him."

Both Legolas and Gimli gave a start, followed by a sigh of exhaustion. "Seriously?" the Elf asked, whereas the Dwarf simply banged his head softly against the nearest wall.

"Yes, I know, now he is aware of who I am and where we are," Aragorn gave back, "but there was something he felt when he saw me – fear. He may be strong, but he is not invincible and seeing Narsil again was certainly not to his liking."

"Very well," Legolas conceded, "now that secrecy is no longer of importance, we may as well take the fastest road to Dunharrow."

Aragorn nodded. "I will, yes. Me and the Dúnedain are going to avoid the mountains and ride directly across the plain to Edoras and then to Dunharrow, even though the king's company will go the longer, hidden way. I'm not asking the two of you to come with me." He sounded sincere, but the glint of hope in his eyes was more than visible.

Gimli looked at Legolas, than back at Aragorn and said, "You won't get rid of us that easily, my lad. We're coming with you, ghosts or nor ghosts." The Dúnadan seemed to ponder the use of protesting, but in the end he said nothing and only gave them a nod of gratitude.

Not long after King Théoden's company had left the Hornburg, the Dúnedain, the Elves and the Dwarf set out eastward and crossed the plain between Helm's Deep and Edoras as fast as their horses could carry them. They reached Dunharrow, the hidden mountain refuge of the Rohirrim south of Edoras, at nightfall. Many people had gathered there, most of them women, children and men who could not fight, whereas those even remotely capable to wield a weapon were on their way to Edoras by order of the king.

The company's arrival provoked many furtive looks and whispers. The Rohirrim were not prone to trust strangers, least of all in times of war, and the Dúnedain with their weather-beaten faces, their tattered cloaks and their various weapons were not exactly the type of visitors one would receive with open arms in the middle of the night. However, the travellers were welcomed by one person who seemed particularly happy to meet them again. Lady Éowyn came to greet them, relieved to see them unharmed and to hear that her uncle and brother were on their way as well.

"Come along and have something to eat, if you will," she offered them. "Tonight, I'm afraid, you will have to content yourselves with whatever modest bedding we can find for you, but tomorrow I will arrange for something more comfortable."

Halbarad threw a questioning glance at Aragorn, who cleared his throat and explained to Éowyn, "We thank you, my lady, but do not trouble yourself for our sake. We are on an errand that does not allow us to stay longer than till dawn tomorrow." Her face reflected her astonishment, but she nodded and did not ask any questions for the moment.

The company received some food – the dreaded coarse bread with blue mould cheese once again – and sat down by a large fire a little aside from the rest of the camp. Legolas glanced over his shoulder to the mountains and could vaguely distinguish a narrow path winding up the rocks before it vanished from his sight behind a few gnarled bushes. Merely looking at it felt wrong in the strangest possible way and a shiver ran down his spine. He turned back towards the fire.

"That's it there, I suppose," Gimli mumbled and a jerk of his head indicated that he had noticed the path as well. Legolas nodded and kept silent. He did not feel inclined to talk about the road that lay ahead of them until they would set foot on it. Gimli accepted his friend's silence and continued eating. Legolas, however, after taking a bite of the stale lembas he had still left from Lothlórien, started observing his comrades.

Halbarad and the Peredhil were sitting by the fire and sharpening their blades. Two of the Dúnedain had taken out small flutes and were playing a melancholic melody from their homeland in the North while most of their kinsmen listened to them in silence. Some others were talking among themselves in low voices and another handful were grooming their horses nearby.

Legolas noticed that Aragorn was missing – he looked around and saw him standing by the tents, absorbed in a conversation with Lady Éowyn. Both of them seemed quite at ease; even Aragorn smiled from time to time and the lady's eyes lit up almost every time he spoke. Legolas peeked over to the Eldar, hoping they were distracted enough by their blades not to notice. Elladan, however, caught his look and signalled him with a frown that he had also seen what was going on.

Suddenly the lady's face froze and she stared up at the mountains in terror. Aragorn only nodded and did not say anything more, whereas Éowyn became visibly agitated and started talking to him vividly. Legolas could not understand her words with the flutes playing near him, but he saw that an argument arose between them. He watched it for a while until the Dúnadan made a resigned gesture, bowed his head brusquely and walked away, leaving Éowyn perplexed and upset. Legolas even thought he saw tears in her eyes, but of course it could be his imagination and the dim lighting playing a trick on him. She stood there for quite some time, looking helpless and miserable, but eventually she made her way towards the centre of the camp and disappeared in a tent.

The following morning Legolas awoke at dawn, rose from his improvised bed made of a horse blanket and his own cloak and woke up Gimli. Aragorn, who had slept in the same tent, was already gone. The two of them packed their few belongings and went to meet the rest of their company.

The Dúnedain were assembled by a small fire they had built, warming their hands and sipping hot soup that was bubbling in a kettle. The fumes emerging from the strange brew made Legolas' nose itch, but he was bold enough to accept the steaming bowl offered to him by a Dúnadan with only eight fingers and a scar across half his face. The soup tasted foreign but not bad at all and for some reason he felt more refreshed after emptying the bowl than he had after sleeping several hours.

"Where's Aragorn?" he asked the man tending to the kettle, but he only shrugged and gestured vaguely towards the Rohirrim camp. Legolas returned the bowl to him and took a mental note not to attempt any more conversations with the Dúnedain before they had finished their breakfast.

"Not the most eloquent fellows, I assure you," the mocking voice of Elrohir interrupted his contemplation. The brothers came walking from the camp and on seeing their neatly combed hair and clean clothes compared to the state of everyone else in a one mile radius, Legolas suddenly felt very self-conscious. Spending so much time on the road with mortals had obviously compromised his sense of cleanliness. He ran his fingers through his hair discreetly and picked a few horse hairs off his trousers.

"I guess they aren't morning people," he replied with an awkward grin, nodding towards the silent Dúnedain.

Elladan helped himself and his brother to a bowl of the mysterious soup and pointed out, "Morning, noon, evening – they never talk much. All these years travelling with them and I haven't heard one single story, let alone a joke. But they do know how to make a decent breakfast." He downed his soup in one gulp.

"To answer your question," Elrohir said, "Aragorn is taking his leave of the Rohirric lady. She has been trying to talk him out of his plan for half an hour. She even asked him to let her come with us. She said she couldn't stand being left behind whenever the men go to war and that she wanted to contribute as well. A strange woman, by the Valar – doesn't seem to have any idea that being here for her people is probably twice as important as our mission." He shook his head and took a sip of soup.

Elladan leaned over to Legolas and added quietly, "She did seem very reluctant to let Aragorn go. And, truth be told, he did not exactly… discourage her apparent fondness of him."

Legolas was just trying to come up with an appropriate answer when the Dúnadan in question emerged from between the tents, a sour frown on his face, but with determined steps. "Are you ready, my friends?" he asked the assembled company and walked over to his horse without waiting for an answer.

The Dúnedain quickly gathered their things, put out the fire and readied their horses as well. Gimli, who had devoured at least three bowls of soup, muttered something about not liking to be rushed in the early morning, but he allowed Legolas to help him mount the horse. They were still sharing the broad back of Arod, the stoic grey stallion from Rohan, although there were more than enough spare horses.

The company set out to the mountains. Aragorn was very quiet all along the way and no one made an attempt to speak to him. The rocks towered over the travellers like menacing giants that were only waiting for the right moment to crush them. Legolas could feel a chill in the air that was not due to the cold morning hour. He saw in the faces of his companions that all of them sensed the unnatural atmosphere of this place as well.

The narrow path opened into a wider road with upright stones on either side and the riders passed a weathered archway with strange carvings none of them could decipher. After a short time a single tall stone became visible in the middle of the path. Behind it there was a wall of rock with a gap that was blacker than Legolas had ever seen. The horses became even more nervous than they had been all along the way and refused to walk past the stone, so the riders had to dismount and lead them.

"This door is evil," Halbarad whispered when he came to a stand in front of the black glen, "I feel my death awaits me behind it. I will follow you though, Aragorn, if you will go in."

"I will," Aragorn gave back and without looking back he stepped between the rocks and vanished immediately in the dark.

The other Dúnedain followed him, even their horses were trusting enough to go with their masters. Arod, however, would not let Legolas lead him along. The Elda then covered the horse's eyes and hummed some soothing words in Sindarin, which made the poor creature tremble a little less, and finally they entered the path.

Legolas fixed his eyes straight ahead and could vaguely distinguish the silhouettes of the Dúnedain. He stopped and listened, waiting for Gimli to come after him. At last he heard the Dwarf's heavy footsteps.

"Who has ever heard of an Elf entering a mountain and a Dwarf being too cowardly to follow?" Gimli muttered in frustration.

"No one," Legolas whispered back, "and no one ever shall. Let's go!" With that they walked on until the last weak rays of light vanished from their sight. Every time Legolas peeked over his shoulder, he thought he saw shapes of Men and horses forming in the shadows, following them in a distance – they had been noticed.

* * *

><p>Tauriel was sitting in the captain's office working on the duty roster for the next month and getting sleepier and sleepier with every page. It was only early afternoon, but it had already been a long day for her. All of a sudden the door flung open without a knock an in stormed Tuven, lieutenant of the Northern Border Guard, out of breath and his face white as a sheet.<p>

"Tauriel, come quickly!" he uttered. "Something is happening."

"What is it?" the captain wanted to know, already halfway to the door. Tuven did not give her any explanation, he simply dragged her along to the courtyard and signalled her to climb the southern watchtower.

She followed his request and when she reached the top, she saw Lieutenant Alation was already up there with two of his palace guards, staring down into the forest. Strange noises could be heard in the distance. "What's the matter?" Tauriel asked. Alation only gestured downwards. What she saw there made her stomach turn.

Large parts of the forest were on fire once more, but this time there was something even more disturbing: A broad swathe in the leaf canopy was beginning to form, expanding in direction of the palace. Someone was cutting down the trees – and with extraordinary force and speed, for what it was worth, because the mighty trees of Greenwood would not easily give way.

Tauriel forced her brain to cooperate. She turned to the watchmen and shouted the first thing that came to her mind, "Fetch the king, quickly!" One of the soldiers hurried off to fulfil her order.

"What in all the Valar's names is that?" Alation muttered in sheer disbelief.

"We will soon find out if they continue at that pace," Tauriel gave back. "Summon all soldiers in the courtyard! Curfew or no curfew, this is stretching too far."

Alation nodded and rushed down the stairs, while Tauriel continued observing the horrendous spectacle for a while until the approaching footsteps told her that the king had arrived. Thranduil came almost running up the steps, followed by the soldier who had alerted him. Without a word to the captain he crossed the platform and looked down into the forest. His face all but froze.

"What shall we do, my lord?" Tauriel dared to ask after a few seconds.

The king gulped and looked at her in bewilderment, then he made a visible effort to collect his thoughts and answered firmly, "We will march out and stop them."

Tauriel was not sure she had heard him correctly. "Beg your pardon?"

He took a deep breath and said, "Whoever is doing this, if they can breach the trees in such speed, they can breach our walls. I will not let that happen. Come, Captain!" With that he started his way back downstairs and she had no choice but to follow him.

* * *

><p>When the Black Ships landed at the banks of the river Anduin, Legolas and the Peredhil were the first to see the carnage that was in progress before the gates of Minas Tirith. Men of Gondor and Rohan were fighting Men of Harad and of the far lands in the East, Orcs were slaughtering their opponents with merciless wrath, several Mûmakil were stomping across the battlefield and trampling horses and riders.<p>

"We're right on time," Elrohir stated, drawing his bow. Elladan and Legolas followed his example, whereas Gimli already waved his axe in grim anticipation. Aragorn stood at the ship's rail, holding Andúril firmly in both hands. He was the first to set foot on land, followed by the rest of his company and the Gondorians who had joined them after the Dead Men of Dunharrow had rid their homes of the invading Corsairs of Umbar. Legolas remembered the army of ghosts with unease – granted, they had fought well enough and earned the right to be released from their oath, but nevertheless he was relieved not to be near them anymore, although he had not been half as horrified by them as the mortals in his company.

Standing on solid ground again, he suddenly felt a strange melancholy. He thought of the haven of Pelargir, where they had boarded the ships, and the cries of the seagulls resounded in his ears once more. For a long time he had dreaded this feeling, this longing for the sea, yet he had always known it would come to him sooner or later, as it came to most of his kin. He pushed the thought away. There were more urgent issues to mind for the moment.

Aragorn exchanged a last look with his friends, then he shouted the command to charge. Halbarad unfolded the banner he had brought from Imladris and the White Tree of Gondor under the Stars of Elendil sparkled in the sun. The arrival of the company immediately changed the mood of the warriors on both sides. The forces of Mordor did not fail to recognise Isildur's heir and his famed sword, whereas the Rohirrim and Gondorians welcomed their allies with joy.

Right before they met the Orcs, Gimli called Legolas and requested, "Don't forget to keep count!"

The Elf nodded, drew an arrow and shot down the first Uruk-hai. The creature collapsed on the muddy ground mere seconds before two of its comrades joined it, with Elladan and Elrohir's arrows sticking out of their eye sockets. Gimli stormed forward with a Khuzdul battle cry that was enough to make every Orc within earshot wince, and his axe soon found its mark. Aragorn and the Dúnedain came upon the soldiers of Mordor with the power of an unleashed tempest and none escaped their blades.

So the Grey Company entered the Battle on the Pelennor Fields. When asked about it later, Legolas would only remember these very first moments. Apart from the memory of a giant roaring Mûmak and the headless fell beast he stumbled upon at some point, the rest of it would blend into a haze of clashing blades, screams and blood.

* * *

><p>"Ready!" Tauriel called and heard the noise of forty bowstrings being pulled. Lieutenant Alation had assembled almost the entire Palace Guard by the watergate, some of them on the battlement above with their bows ready, the rest of them on the rocks by the river. If the attackers had any chance at all to enter the Woodland Halls, it was in the very place that had already proved to be a weakness sixty years ago. Tauriel remembered the escape of the Dwarves and the massacre that had followed and begged the Valar to have more mercy this time.<p>

A group of Easterlings had been spotted approaching the watergate and Tauriel had decided to oversee the first attack herself. The defences in that particular place were strong enough, yet she wanted to see what she was getting her soldiers into.

A rustling in the bushes at the river bank alerted the archers. Both Tauriel and Alation held their breath for a second or two before the first strangely crafted arrow came flying towards the battlement and hit the stone. "Fire!" Tauriel shouted. Forty bowstrings were released, forty arrows flew haphazardly down into the coppice and, judging by the cries and groans that followed, most of them found their marks. A few more arrows were sent by the enemies, but the guards managed to eliminate all of them the second time they shot. After that everything was quiet.

"All right, you should be fine," Tauriel said to Alation, hiding her insecurity about her own statement behind an encouraging grin. "I must be off, the king is waiting for me."

Alation nodded, undoubtedly aware of her act. "Very good, Captain. Anything else?"

She stopped and hesitated shortly, then she smiled at him for real. "You know how to defend this palace. Just… don't let them in."

As redundant as it was, Alation got her meaning. "Not as long as I breathe," he replied. "May the Valar be with you."

The captain left the Palace Guard to their task and made her way to the gate, where the rest of the Woodland soldiers were assembled by divisions. A group of healers was there as well and seeing Amril among them comforted and worried Tauriel at the same time. The king expected her along with the lieutenants Tuven, Glandir and Fiondir. The last time she had seen all of them in armour, with the same grim look of determination mingled with fear, had been at Erebor. Tauriel forced herself to breathe steadily and checked the position of her blades probably for the fiftieth time.

"Is everything settled?" Thranduil inquired and the captain replied, "Yes, my lord. The people are on the lower levels of the caves and Alation is overseeing the defences. All that can be done has been done."

"Very well, let us go then," the king decided and walked to the gate. Tauriel followed him, repeating the strategy they had agreed on in her head. The lieutenants led their divisions through the gate after the king and the captain. Stepping into the forest again after the long confinement felt like a liberation, despite the horrifying circumstances.

At the first crossroads the Northern Border Guard separated from the rest of the host and took the path to the river. "Remember to stay hidden as long as possible, and call for aid if you need us!" Tauriel reminded Lieutenant Tuven.

He grinned and gave her an exhausted nod. "Right. You know I've done this before, don't you?" She only rolled her eyes and let him wander off.

The two remaining divisions continued straight on towards the field of destruction they had seen from the watchtower. Why the attackers were cutting down trees at all, no one understood so far. Possibly it was a means to facilitate the transport of heavy gear, or simply a way of doing as much damage as possible. Whatever the reason might be, it was of vital importance to lure the enemies back into the dense parts of the forest. The Woodelves lacked both experience and equipment for open field fighting, but as long as they could move unseen and unheard in the impenetrable leaf-covered labyrinth that was the Greenwood, no intruder stood a chance against them.

Soon the smell of fire and the sound of cracking wood told them they were coming close to their target. Tauriel sent two scouts to investigate the situation. When they returned after a few minutes, they reported a large number of Orcs and Easterlings moving towards the Woodland host, as well as four giant Trolls that were responsible for tearing down the trees. She ordered Glandir and Fiondir to make their divisions split up and advance individually under the cover of the trees. She herself stayed close to the king and the Special Operations Unit.

Careful not to make a sound, the Eldar moved forward in the shadows. Through the branches of a juniper tree Tauriel caught the first glimpse of the enemy host. The Orcs were advancing slowly because they had difficulty coming through the thick coppice, heavily built and armed as they were. Tauriel could not see the Trolls from her position, but she still heard the sound of breaking wood in the distance. The king signalled her to stop and she passed his order on to the soldiers. It had been agreed that they would stay at the rear, whereas the Forest Guard and the Southern Border Guard would advance on either side of the enemy host and encircle them as best they could.

After waiting what felt like an hour, a raven's call indicated that all units had found their positions. Tauriel drew her bow and saw the soldiers nearby following her example. The Orcs had not come much further and seemed unaware of the Eldar's presence. A last look at the king, a mutual nod – and Tauriel gave the signal to shoot. Arrows flew through the coppice from everywhere , buzzing in the air and burying themselves in Orc flesh. Roars of anger and shrieks of pain could be heard and a moment later the first shots were returned. The soldier closest to Tauriel gasped, tumbled and fell over with an arrow in his throat. The captain glanced at the body for a second or two – Idhrenon was his name, he had been with the Special Operations Unit for five years and had recently got married. She forced her eyes away from him. There would be time to grieve, but not now. She drew her blades, as the king did next to her. "Charge!" she shouted and leapt out of her hiding place.

* * *

><p>Legolas ducked to avoid the spear of a Haradrim soldier and almost tripped over a horse cadaver. He stopped himself from falling in the last moment – which proved to be difficult because for some reason he could not feel his left foot – before his opponent dealt the next stroke. This time Legolas was prepared; he turned to the side, caught the spear by its shaft and, summoning all the strength he had left, he thrust it back. The Haradrim lost his balance for just a few seconds, but that was enough for Legolas to throw one of his knives. The Man stared at him in surprise when his legs gave way and he collapsed into the mud.<p>

Quickly Legolas glanced around, ready to face the next attacker, but there was none left. Here and there a few Rohirrim and Gondorians were still engaged in duels, but for the most part the fighting had come to an end. Legolas drew his bow and fired an arrow at a nearby Orc, gaining a nod of gratitude from the Adan who had been opposing him. After that there was nothing more to be done.

Legolas took in the sight of the blood-soaked ground, covered with bodies of both Orcs and Men, allies and foes. He limped over to the Haradrim he had just killed and plucked his knife from the soldier's chest. A very young man, as far as Legolas could judge, dark-eyed and with some outlandish war paint on his coppery skin. Not knowing why exactly he did it, he approached the body and closed the dead man's eyes.

He walked in direction of the city gates, trying not to look or to listen too much on the way. When he entered the ascending streets of Minas Tirith, he did not have to go far until he encountered Gimli, wearing a blood-stained bandage around his head but still holding his axe.

"Well, my friend, how many?" the Dwarf greeted him.

Legolas shrugged. "I don't know, you win."

"Mmh," Gimli grumbled and gave him a light slap on the shoulder before he added quietly, "Come along. You haven't heard about the king yet, have you?"

"The king?" Suddenly Legolas' attention came back and he noticed the concerned look on Gimli's face for the first time.

"Aye," the Dwarf answered, "King Théoden fell. Crushed by his own horse – I always said horses were not to be trusted. But, anyway, there's another rumour among the men: They say the Lord of the Nazgûl himself assaulted him shortly before he died, but a Rohirric soldier rescued him!"

"By slaying the Witch King of Angmar?" Legolas asked sheepishly, vaguely recalling the headless fell beast on the battlefield. "So much for the prophecy that no man would ever defeat him."

Gimli shook his head. "The prophecy came true nonetheless: It was no man at all. The warrior turned out to be no other than Lady Éowyn and apparently she had help from our friend Master Meriadoc."

At that point Legolas looked at Gimli as if he had just told him the Lonely Mountain was made of Rohirric blue mould cheese. He raised an eyebrow at the Dwarf. "Come with me and see for yourself if you don't believe me!" Gimli insisted and dragged his exhausted and fairly indifferent friend along.

* * *

><p>Tauriel had faced Orcs, Easterlings and Trolls before, but to be overrun by them in her own home was something she had never even imagined. The fight had gone on for several hours and night had already fallen, but the light of the burning trees chased the dark away. The Woodland Guard had been forced to retreat to the palace gate and was currently trying to keep the attackers away from all possible entrances.<p>

The captain had lost count of all the soldiers who had died around her. Once in a while she checked if the king was still on his feet, but that was about all she felt able to do apart from surviving. Her vision was blurry and every breath felt like needles in her lungs, her arms were heavy and she was fairly certain the crusted liquid on her face was her own blood. She beheaded an Orc, turned to the side and delivered another blow to an Easterling. She missed his neck and only managed to cut through his leather armour. In return she received a punch in the stomach that made her sink into the mud on all fours. She heard the sound of the Easterling's blade swishing through the air above her, ready to chop off her head, but she was fast enough to raise her dagger once more and bury it in his lower abdomen. The warm blood that spouted out of the wound drenched her sleeve before the Easterling collapsed beside her. Tauriel got up, forcing her eyes to focus and suppressing the urge to vomit. When her vision became clear for a second or two, she saw one of her soldiers being cut down by two Orcs right next to her. Without knowing if she had any arrows left, she switched from blades to bow. Her hands found an arrow in her quiver, she aimed mechanically and shot one of the two beasts. The other one fell down mere moments later, a knife in its throat.

Through a veil of cries and clashing steal Tauriel could vaguely distinguish the king's voice. "Captain! Give the signal to fall back!" she heard him shout between two sword strokes before he turned his back to her and said the same to Fiondir who stood a few steps away. Her brain refused to cooperate, but when the king called her the second time she understood that she had just received an order. She nodded and passed the command on to the soldiers closest to her, who spread it among their comrades.

Tauriel watched the guards cross the bridge and pass through the main gate. On either side archers of the Palace Guard sent their arrows in the opposite direction to prevent the enemies from hindering the retreat. When everyone was inside, Tauriel gave the order to close the gate.

"Wait!" someone shouted behind her. In her current state of mind it took her a moment to figure out it was Fiondir who came running towards her. "There are two units of my division missing," he gasped. "I still saw them fighting five minutes ago, give them a chance to get in!"

Tauriel glanced through the half-closed gate and resolved that he was right, but a volley of Easterling arrows flying towards the entrance rendered the decision mute. They bounced off the heavy iron door wings with an awful scratching noise. "Tauriel!" Fiondir insisted. "Did you hear me? Aithanar and Sidhril's units are out there!"

Tauriel's heart skipped a beat at the mentioning of her friend's name. She was, of course, concerned for all her soldiers' well-being, but ultimately it was the thought of Sidhril being trapped outside with a horde of Orcs that made her take her decision. "Open the gate!" she told the two palace guards on either side. They hesitated a few seconds, but eventually they obeyed. Tauriel peeked through the gap and indeed she saw the soldiers in question at the foot of the bridge, engaged in a fight against three times as many Orcs as they could possibly defeat. "Archers!" she heard herself scream and twenty arrows were fired, but it did not make much of a difference against the sheer mass of attackers.

"I swear to Eru, if those Orcs don't kill her, I will!" Fiondir growled, drew his blades and stormed out, followed by some palace guards. What happened next was already over before Tauriel's exhausted mind could even take it in. First she heard the king's outraged voice shouting from somewhere in the crowd, "Captain! What in Manwe's name are you doing?" The next instant a rain of arrows emerged from the coppice on the left side of the bridge. Tauriel stood immobile, unable to grasp a clear thought, while her comrades were impaled one by one, right before the gate was slammed shut again.


	36. Black Breath

Tauriel made an effort to focus on the king's words and ignore the pain in too many different parts of her body as well as the terrible images in her mind. 'Don't think about it,' she repeated to herself, 'not until the battle is over!'

It would be over soon enough, no doubt, one way or the other. The Eldar had barred all possible entrances to the caves and spent the night tending to the wounded and recovering their strength as best they could. Outside everything was quiet at the moment, but the watchmen reported that the number of enemies lurking all around the palace had not decreased.

The king and the four remaining commanders were assembled in the captain's office and discussing the further course of action. Looking around, Tauriel saw they had all suffered considerable damage. Thranduil changed his position on the chair every few minutes, a painful grimace on his face, and he seemed to have trouble breathing. Alation, despite having stayed within the palace walls, wore a sling on his right arm. Tuven sported a swollen lip and two missing front teeth – his obligatory smirk was still there nonetheless, although a little distorted and not for amusement but rather for helplessness. Glandir, the youngest lieutenant, appeared unharmed except for a few scratches, but Tauriel saw in his absent expression that he was fighting his very own battle in his mind. She put her hand on is arm, which made him give a start, and tried to force an encouraging smile.

The absence of the fourth lieutenant made her thoughts wander back to the previous evening, to the bridge, the arrows, the soldiers being hit and falling off the bridge one by one, first Fiondir, then Sidhril... 'Don't think about it!' she told herself once more. She took a deep breath and concentrated on the king and the map on the table.

Thranduil's hands moved from one point on the map to the other and Tauriel needed a while to catch up with his explanation. "If we can lure them to the watergate, we run a higher risk of them entering the caves, but then they would only come as far as the dungeons, with no possibility to access the rest of the palace," he stated. "Meeting them at the main gate again would most likely end in the same kind of massacre as yesterday, there are too many hiding places on either side of the bridge and the path. What do you say, Captain?"

Tauriel blinked on hearing her title. "Yes, I agree," she replied, only half aware of what he had suggested, because the mere thought of marching out again immediately gave her a stomach ache. She gathered all her courage and said, "Have you considered calling for aid, my lord? We can endure inside the caves for long enough to alert our neighbours. If we distract the Orcs, there is a fair chance of the messages getting through to Lothlórien or even the cities of Men and Dwarves in the East…"

"Do you think they do not have enough sorrows of their own?" the king interrupted her sharply. "We are not the only ones under attack, I am sure. Besides, Celeborn and Galadriel would be foolish to send their people out when they can protect them in Caras Galadhon by means of their ring. And Men and Dwarves? When have they ever cared for anyone but themselves? Have you forgotten how our people died for their cause in Erebor? No, Tauriel, we stand alone." The three lieutenants did not know where to look and Tauriel felt her last hopes sink.

The king straightened up and nodded. "The watergate it is then. The main gate and the western passage will be guarded as well, but we will concentrate our forces by the river. How many soldiers are available?" He looked at the officers questioningly.

Alation was the first to reply, "The Palace Guard is almost complete, only a dozen soldiers are injured or… gone." The other lieutenants exchanged a frown.

"Of the Northern Border Guard, I'd say about three quarters can fight," Tuven answered next.

"The same goes for the Southern Border Guard," Glandir added.

The king's eyebrows shot up; obviously he had expected more. "What about the Forest Guard?" he inquired. "Will you take charge of them, Captain?"

Tauriel cleared her throat. "I will, my lord. But I'm afraid only half of them are able to fight."

Thranduil let out a deep breath. "Half. Very well, that will do. It must. We will wait until dawn, but you better agree on who will be stationed where and inform your soldiers already. I shall leave you to discuss the details and expect your report in an hour." With that he got up and left the office.

Tauriel and the lieutenants did as ordered, arranging the defences as best they could with the limited resources they had. Even a large group of civilians offered their services to the captain. Despite her reluctance they insisted on taking part in the protection of their home, so she conceded and had everyone over the age of two hundred years equipped with whatever spare armour and weapons could be found and positioned them at the entrances with a few capable palace guards. Somehow the communal spirit displayed by the Woodland people and their eagerness to withstand the evil together lifted the heavy cloud off Tauriel's mind for some time.

When the sun rose, the Woodland Guard gathered once again. As they marched out to meet the enemy, all of them knew this was going to be the last time, for better or for worse. The captain led the Forest Guard, or what was left of it, to the right side of the river, with the two Border Guard divisions within sight on the other bank. The Palace Guard stayed closest to the watergate, whereas the Special Operations Unit had the task to lure the attackers around the palace and between the defence lines of the Eldar.

While hiding between the rocks with her soldiers and waiting for the battle to begin, Tauriel felt a weak ray of sunlight on her face, heard the murmuring of the river and noticed a few fresh leaves on the branches of the trees nearby. To her this spring morning was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen and she took it in with all her senses, knowing it could be the last happy memory of her life, as well as the last morning the Woodland Realm would ever see. Her hand slid into her pocket, where it found the holly twig from Imladris, all dried up and brittle. A smile curled her lips and at the same time her eyes filled with tears. She blinked them away. Looking at the faces of her comrades and at the waking forest around her, she resolved that of all the possible ways to die, this was not the worst one she could think of.

With quiet steps the king came up to her and crouched down on her right. He looked at peace, more so than he had in the last weeks. "Ready, Captain?" he whispered without facing her.

"I think so," she gave back. "Not that it makes any difference."

"Probably not," he agreed "yet they say the Halls of Mandos are particularly charming this time of the year." Tauriel turned towards him ad raised an eyebrow, which he acknowledged with a smirk. She caught herself returning it.

"Do you think future history books will record this day?" he asked after a while. "If so, I should like it to be known as the Battle under the Trees – it has a poetic ring to it, would you not agree?"

Tauriel pondered the bizarre question, then she suggested, "Much more so in Sindarin than in Black Speech, I imagine."

After that there was a long silence. Eventually the king took a deep breath and turned to face her. "I am honoured to fight with you, Tauriel, Captain of the Guard. However this turns out, I find myself realising that choosing you to protect our people was an unusually insightful decision on my part."

Tauriel bowed her head a little awkwardly and replied, "I am honoured to fight at your side as well, my lord."

Mere seconds later she heard the first approaching footsteps. "Ready!" she called. Arrows were drawn and bowstrings were pulled. The familiar sound of clashing metal could be heard behind the trees on the opposite river bank and it did not take long for the Orcs to break through the coppice.

As far as Tauriel was concerned, the Battle under the Trees, or whatever it should be called, soon turned into the same monotonous haze of blood, pain and exhaustion that it had been the other day. She stayed with the king and for some reason his presence comforted her, as terrifying as it was to watch him fight. An Orc or Easterling who came within reach of his blades did not stand much of a chance to see the rolling boulder hills and gentle lava fields of Mordor again, as Tauriel caught herself thinking, if only to distract herself from the stinging pain in her lungs.

She had long lost all sense of time and just continued shooting and stabbing and directing her soldiers according to the agreed strategy after her brain decided to leave the battle and let her instincts take over. She acknowledged that there were still a lot of Woodland soldiers dying, but she had the vague impression that this time the number of Orc and Easterling bodies accumulating on the ground exceeded that of the Eldar.

At some point the clashing of the weapons and the roars and cries stopped and silence fell upon the battlefield. For Tauriel it came altogether unexpected and she only realised that the fight was over when she waited in vain for the next sword stroke to parry. She did not feel or think anything, she simply stood there for a while, breathing heavily and waiting for her senses to return. It was dark and a few stars were visible in the sky behind a layer of clouds. Raindrops fell on Tauriel's face when she looked up and she closed her eyes to let the cold water wash off the horrors of the last hours.

She slowly started to perceive the world around her again. The worst thing about the aftermath of a battle had to be the moans and cries of the wounded. Tauriel saw lots of soldiers squirming with pain on the ground or dragging themselves along as best they could. The healers were already busy, but there should have been twice as many to take care of everyone in need. At least she recognised Amril among them, unharmed and efficient as always.

"Captain!" she heard a familiar voice calling her. Turning around, she managed to match it to Alation, who came towards her followed by the king. She tried to remember how to smile, but the two of them stopped short at the sight of her. "Tauriel, you have…" Alation started, pointing at her.

"What?" she asked, vaguely noticing the strange numbness in her right leg for the first time. She took a step towards the others, or at last she tried, because the next moment she found herself falling over and landing in the mud. Wondering why her leg had given way, she looked at it – and could not have been more astonished to find a piece of an arrow sticking about an inch above the back of her knee.

Alation crouched down beside her and his face turned white as a sheet. "Tauriel, how long has this been in your leg?" he all but shouted.

"I don't know," was all she could say, trying to remember how it had happened.

In the meantime the king had knelt down next to Alation and his eyes widened when he saw the broken arrow. Without so much of a word he grabbed Tauriel around the waist and pulled her up. "You have to go to the Houses of Healing immediately," he said.

"What? No!" Tauriel protested, still unable to think straight and at a complete loss as to why they would make such a fuss about a wound that did not even hurt. "There are others who are in much worse condition. I can just pull it out and make myself useful here…" But there was no way of persuading either the king or Alation to leave her alone.

"Find the other lieutenants and oversee the retreat!" Thranduil ordered while already dragging Tauriel with him. From the corner of her eye she saw Alation bowing his head and hurrying off, whereas she herself had no choice but to cling to the king's shoulder and keep up with his quick pace. Through the veil of numbness that currently shielded her from the world, she felt the first painful little stings dripping into her consciousness like drops of red-hot iron.

* * *

><p>Dawn was breaking and Legolas descended the steps from the highest level of the White City. After the battle and the long, tiresome negotiations that had followed, he had felt the need to be alone for a while, so he had spent the night on the platform, watching the stars and resting his mind in peaceful thoughts. He was feeling better now, though his enthusiasm for the next stage of their journey, which the captains of all the remaining armed forces had agreed on the day before, could have been greater.<p>

To put it bluntly, they would march to their deaths. The plan was to distract Sauron and lure out his army, so that Frodo and Sam would get a chance to reach Mount Doom unseen. However, if the two Hobbits were still alive no one knew for certain. Gandalf seemed to know more than he had told his friends, or at least that was what Legolas kept repeating in his head, because otherwise the idea would be complete and utter madness. There were only about seven thousand soldiers left, a miserable excuse for an army planning to oppose the forces of Mordor.

The only thought that kept Legolas going was the certainty that they had the best leader they could wish for, and probably the only one in Arda who could match Sauron at all, for what it was worth. Aragorn had recently proven his strength not only in battle, but also by mastering the Dead Men of Dunharrow and the palantír – even if the legends about the heir of Isildur were not all true, the one who claimed that title fulfilled the expectations attached to it. In fact, Legolas mused, if Aragorn had taken the chance to wield the ring himself, he could have turned out a rather fine Dark Lord himself, and no less terrifying than the current one. For a moment the Elf allowed himself to dwell on this disturbing notion, but then he chased it away. To rid his mind of the horrifying thoughts he decided to find Aragorn.

He walked through the streets of Minas Tirith that were already quite busy at this early hour. People walked from here to there, carried goods or drove animals along. Once more Legolas was astonished by the resilience of Men; not two days ago they had faced the destruction of their entire culture, and yet they were already living their lives again as if nothing had happened. He almost envied them their ability to live every day of their short lives to the fullest.

He took a while to observe the people he encountered in the streets. In comparison to the Rohirrim, the Gondorians were generally shorter and leaner. Most of them had dark hair and brown eyes and wore colourful clothing. Their speech was melodic and full of energy and they seemed very sociable, always gathering in groups and chatting or singing together while doing their daily work. Legolas enjoyed their company, although he had not spoken to lots of them.

The Houses of Healing were the first place he visited on his mission to find Aragorn, and indeed there was the Dúnadan, sitting in the sun on the stairs that led to the entrance, smoking his pipe. "Good morning, mellon nin," he greeted Legolas. "Where are you headed so early in the morning?"

"Just wandering about," the Elf gave back and sat down next to his friend. He made the mistake to inhale Aragorn's pipe smoke and started coughing.

The Dúnadan chuckled, giving him a few decent slaps on the back. "I'm sorry," he pointed out, "I don't even like this sort of pipe weed myself."

"Why are you smoking it then?" Legolas rasped, still catching his breath.

"Halbarad gave it to me a while back," Aragorn stated quietly. "It's stupid, I know, but I'm smoking this pipe in memory of him. I'll put it out…"

"No!" Legolas interrupted him. "Go on, I don't mind. May the stars of Elbereth guide his way to…" He stopped and hesitated. "Forgive me, but where do the souls of Men go after they die?"

Aragorn inclined his head in acknowledgement of the condolences and answered, "They go to the Halls of Mandos, just like yours, but only until they're cleaned of the evil and sorrow life has laid on them. After that, no one knows where we go."

"I see," Legolas stated, finding the notion of such uncertainty very strange. He did not know what to say next, so he pretended to observe the people in the street.

Aragorn noticed his awkwardness and continued, "Halbarad led a good life and died honourably the way he would have wanted. Besides, he will have good company on his way to… wherever he will go."

"King Théoden and Lord Denethor are worthy travelling companions indeed," Legolas stated and Aragorn nodded.

"How is Lord Faramir?" Legolas wanted to know.

The Dúnadan frowned but forced his face to look neutral again immediately. "He is gravely injured. Yet, with a bit of luck and the strength that the men of his house possess, he will recover. I hope he will live to see better days than his father and brother."

At that Legolas looked away to hide his sorrowful grimace. He quickly changed the subject and inquired after Lady Éowyn.

"She is awake," Aragorn replied, "the athelas worked miracles with her and the Black Breath will soon leave her. What worries me more than her body is the state of her soul. She does not seem to have much will to live, let alone hope for the future. It pains me to see her suffering."

"You care about her, don't you?" Legolas asked.

Aragorn looked at him in surprise. "Why, of course I care about her. She is an exceptional woman with a gentle heart and great courage, who was misled to believe that the only way of earning renown was on the battlefield. She has earned glory, no doubt, she has done what even the mightiest warriors could not do. Yet now she might die in the bloom of her youth. She could have led a happy life and earned renown by caring for her people. She could have found love, had a family…" At that Aragorn stopped, seeing Legolas' sceptical look. He let out a deep breath and said eventually, "Yes, I know. I may only be an Adan, but I'm not blind. I am well aware of what she… thought to see in me and, believe me, no man could be unmoved by such affection."

"An affection you return?" Legolas dared to ask.

"By Elbereth Gilthoniel, Legolas!" Aragorn exclaimed and almost threw his pipe in the Elf's face. "As if I… Forgive me, I didn't mean to be so harsh. She seemed to believe I was some sort of hero. Young girls can be quite impressionable, I guess. And I, well, I admit I find her lovely and charming, but… I should have been less friendly to her, shouldn't I? I've always been utterly hopeless at these things."

Legolas smiled. "I know someone who would disagree."

"She probably would," Aragorn affirmed, touching the pendant around his neck involuntarily, but he let it go brusquely and shook his head. "I pleaded her to sail west. Eru knows I love her and I wish nothing more than to be with her, but it is because I love her that I want the best for her. Elrohir is right: If she stays with me, either way all she will find is death." The Dúnadan looked utterly miserable, but Legolas had no words to comfort him.

"That is her own choice, you cannot make it for her," he simply said. "If you're going to listen to Elrohir, you must consider Elladan's words as well: She still has hope and she knows your strength, probably better than you know it yourself. Trust me, I've known Arwen for six hundred years, my friend, and if she says you have it in you to defeat this evil, you better believe her." He was surprised to hear himself utter these words with so much confidence when he had been so desperate not long ago, but somehow the Dúnadan's presence gave him hope.

"You are a king's son, Legolas," Aragorn suddenly started. "Have you ever felt completely inadequate for the role your birth has forced upon you?"

"All the time," the Elf gave back with a grin of bitter amusement. "I spent most of my youth cursing the Valar for making me a prince, and my father's rigid attitude didn't exactly help my cause. But I grew accustomed to it. Now I feel it's a privilege to be able to guide and protect my people."

Aragorn nodded slowly, puffing his pipe. "That's true, of course. Only, the people that are supposed to be mine now are strangers to me. I'm of the Dúnedain and my home is Imladris. I have known my heritage for more than sixty years, but it still scares me. On the one hand I feel I am meant to claim my place in the noble line of my forefathers, on the other hand…" He paused, chuckling in resignation. "It must be tiring to listen to my stupid rambling."

"Not at all," Legolas replied in all sincerity, "every honourable man would feel the same way in your place. I can only say that you have led us well until now and I am sure you will lead us well on this last endeavour. I will follow you wherever it takes us, and so will the others."

Aragorn looked at his friend and managed a small smile. "I will do what I can," he replied. "I am glad to have a friend like you – and Gimli and Éomer and… Well, as I see it, I am blessed with the best companions I could wish for. Thank you." He took a deep breath and got up. "Well, I must go and visit out three war heroes now. Merry is already complaining about the food, can you imagine?"

"Without difficulty," Legolas answered and grinned.

"But let me tell you, I hope I don't run into the herb-master or that one healer, Ioreth. Those two are not exactly what I need in the early morning. They both talk incessantly without saying anything, if you know what I mean. Quite tiring – are the healers in Mirk-, Greenwood like that as well?"

Legolas graciously ignored the slip of tongue and replied, "Some are, yes, but the one healer I know best is the very opposite. She knows every ailment and every herb to cure it, yet she is always calm and polite."

"Lucky you," Aragorn mumbled and ascended the stairs to the Houses of Healing.

* * *

><p>"Hold him down, for Eru's sake! Have I taught you nothing in five hundred years?" Nimiel shouted at the young healer who was assisting her in removing a splinter of a broken spear from a soldier's shoulder. The wounded groaned and struggled, but now the other healer tightened his grip and Nimiel could continue her unpleasant duty. Her apron was drenched in blood, not only from the current patient, and she had to concentrate hard to stop her hands from trembling. She had been working tirelessly since the previous evening, when the soldiers had returned from the first battle. The healing quarters were already overcrowded, but now the second wave of new admissions started to come in and she had no idea how to deal with it. At least it seemed the fight was over and had not ended in a complete disaster, she acknowledged.<p>

"Lady Nimiel, we have an emergency!" she heard a fellow healer call and turned around to see him carrying yet another unconscious soldier with half his right arm missing. She suppressed a gulp.

"There are no more beds," she replied. "Lay him on a blanket in the corridor and stop the bleeding! Find Belegor or Duileth, I am busy here." With that she turned back to the soldier in front of her and ignored all the chaos and noise level around her as far as possible. 'Focus!' she reminded herself silently. 'One thing after another!' She stuck the forceps into the wound again, not paying any attention to the patient's outcry, and finally got hold of the splinter. "There we have it!" she mumbled mostly to herself and pulled it out. Then she pressed a piece of linen drenched in alcohol on the wound, which made the soldier gasp. "Dress the wound!" she told the young healer, got up and looked around to find out where she was needed next.

It was in this moment that the door flung open and the king entered, looking weary and bruised but altogether unharmed. He carried a soldier in his arms – a female soldier with bright red hair. Nimiel's blood froze in her veins. She did not know how she crossed the room and came to a stand beside him, trying to decipher what he was saying between Tauriel's cries of pain. She could distinguish the words 'arrow', 'knee' and 'morgul'. Her heart started to beat twice as fast.

"Come along!" she requested and pushed her way through the crowd, followed by the king. She found some free space in the corridor and a blanket, unfolded it on the floor and Thranduil laid Tauriel down prone. Her face was as pale as death and her breathing was shallow. Nimiel tried to address her, but there was no reaction. She ripped Tauriel's trousers open and almost gasped at the sight of the wound. A large area around the poisoned arrow had already turned cold and grey. "Eru, have mercy," she whispered and stopped a nurse who was just walking by. "Get me some athelas and fresh bandages at once!" The nurse nodded, seeing how serious the situation was, and headed in direction of the storage room.

When the herbs and bandages had arrived, Nimiel all but ordered the king to hold Tauriel's upper body while the nurse prepared the athelas leaves and she herself removed the arrow with one determined movement. Touching it alone sent a chill down her spine and she dropped it on the floor in disgust. Meanwhile Tauriel started trembling all over and struggled for breath. Softly speaking the incantation that belonged to the treatment and feeling the familiar warmth flow through her hands into her daughter's body, Nimiel shoved the shredded leaves into the wound. The healer almost felt the pain herself, like an ice-cold knife slicing through her chest, and for a split of a second a black shadow crossed her vision. She had experienced this before, it was the Black Breath, unwilling to give up Tauriel's body without a fight. Nimiel repeated the ancient words and pressed the healing herbs deeper into the wound. Tauriel screamed and tried to shake off the hands that were holding her. A few seconds later she fell silent and did not move anymore.

Nimiel grabbed her wrist and felt her pulse – it was fast and shallow, but at least there was one. Touching Tauriel's hand revealed that there was still enough life in her body to stand a chance against the poison. For now Nimiel could do nothing but wait and trust in her daughter's will to live. She quickly dressed the wound and sent the nurse away to see to her other tasks.

Nimiel breathed deeply and looked at Tauriel's almost peaceful face. Without even knowing what was happening, she suddenly noticed tears running down her cheeks and a moment later she felt the king's arms being wrapped around her. She knelt on the floor in silence for quite a while, holding her daughter's hand in her left and Thranduil's in her right, before she finally resolved she had to pull herself together for the sake of those who still needed her help.

"Thank you for bringing her in," she whispered, wiped her eyes and got up. "What news from outside?"

Thranduil tried to look reassuring when he answered, "We fought them off, there are none left – for now. We do not know what will happen tomorrow, but at the moment we are safe."

Nimiel nodded, but she could not quite feel relieved yet. "Do you happen to know anything about Amril?" she asked him.

"He is safe and sound, taking care of the wounded on the battlefield," the king replied. He glanced at her, then at the wounded soldiers everywhere, and resolved it was time to leave her to her duties. "May the Valar give you strength," he said, inclined his head and walked away.

* * *

><p>At last the journey had come to its end. Mordor – it was just as the stories described it. No plants grew on the ashen plains in the shadows of the mountains, the foul breath of Orodruin tainted the air and the very land reeked of evil. Facing the henchmen of Sauron had always been a nightmare come true, but in this Eru-forsaken place Legolas felt utterly powerless for the first time in the seven centuries of his life. The host of the West was attacked by the forces of Mordor from all four sides and by the eight remaining Nazgûl on their winged fell beasts from above. There was no way to escape. Legolas held on to his blades for dear life; the loyal Greenwood-forged steel in his hands comforted him in his supposed last hours in this world.<p>

A creature that looked like a grotesque hybrid between an Orc and a Troll gritted its yellow teeth at him. He blinked in honest astonishment and marvelled at the strange effects that Sauron's reign had on the local fauna. If only he could tell Tauriel about this, she would not believe him… Oh well, obviously she would never hear of it. With a determined stroke of both his blades he rid the creature of its hideous head and congratulated himself on the nice clean cut. Captain Rochanar would have been proud to see his former student's skill. Legolas had resolved that, if this was going to be the end of his life, there was no use in despairing. He could as well try to see it all with that certain sarcastic serenity that he had often observed in his father whenever sincere involvement had become too painful.

Next to him Gimli felled an Uruk-hai and buried his axe in the beast's skull. The two of them had agreed that whoever lived the longest would honour his friend's memory by saying a blessing in the other's respective language – learning that blasted Khuzdul phrase had taken up most of the last night and Legolas' throat was still a little sore from all the guttural sounds, but it had been a welcome distraction.

He readied himself to face the next opponent – an Easterling with a spear and a horned helmet – when suddenly a collective gasp went through the mass of fighters. He looked up, following the eyes of everyone else, and when he saw the giant eagles attacking the Ringwraiths, at first he thought he was finally going mad and his eyes were cheating him. But soon he heard an unearthly scream coming from the Dark Tower. It sounded as if it had been uttered by the mountains and plains of Mordor themselves and it instantly made the Nazgûl turn away from their attackers and fly towards the tower.

Legolas seized the moment and sliced the horned Easterling's throat. He did not see what exactly happened next, but a few seconds later he heard Gandalf's voice from somewhere in the crowd. "Stand, Men of the West! Stand and wait! This is the hour of doom!" he shouted. Before Legolas could make something of the words, the earth began to shake. In the distance the towers collapsed and the volcano spat out a fountain of fire and smoke. Legolas stumbled and fell, feeling another body landing on him. He covered his eyes and ears because a deafening roar shook the plain. It was not a mere sound, it carried an air of evil and rage. He thought his head was going to burst and he tried desperately to think of something comforting, but there was no such thing left in his mind.

Then, without premonition, there was a moment of silence, followed by a sudden turmoil of shrieks and stomping feet. Legolas felt the weight of whoever had fallen upon him taken off his body. He opened his eyes, trying to figure out what was happening. He saw the Orcs, Easterlings, Haradrim, Trolls and all the other foul creatures scurrying off in direction of the ruined Black Gate, stumbling, shouting, overrunning each other. He watched the spectacle in utter bewilderment until he noticed that breathing suddenly became easier and something dark and numbing, which had been there for so long he had not even noticed its presence anymore, was lifted off his mind. He blinked and looked around. Gimli was kneeling on the ground at arm's length from him, staring at the Black Gate. Legolas touched the Dwarf's arm, making him wince.

"What in the name of Dúrin is happening?" he uttered. "I feel… relieved… free… What is this?"

"I know, mellon nin, I feel the same," Legolas gave back. For the first time it dawned on him that his journey might not be over yet after all. "Frodo – I think we succeeded."

* * *

><p>Tauriel woke with a start. She had no idea where she was or what had happened. All she knew was that there was something missing. The pain – yes, that was it. The pain and the heavy black shadow were gone. She could breathe again.<p>

The memories came back slowly. The battlefield, the arrow, the impenetrable darkness, then the faint glint of light and the soothing yet powerful voice that had urged her to fight the evil inside her. She had obeyed. It had been the hardest battle of her life because this enemy could not be slain with a blade. At some point in her long dream she had seen the image of a black tower collapsing and a mountain spitting fire and ash. From then on the fight had been easier. Apparently she had won it in the end, or else she would not be here, in the Houses of Healing, lying in bed with a bandage around her thigh.

"Tauriel?" A voice right next to her calling her name made her wince.

"Eru!" she heard herself rasp and tried to turn her head enough to see who was speaking to her. She looked into Nimiel's face that was tired, happy and anxious all at once.

"No, not quite, just me," her mother said with a faint smile. "Welcome back, my dear."

"What happened? What about the Orcs, the battle…?" she uttered.

"It is long over," Nimiel assured her, "our people drove the enemy away for good twelve days ago. You were there until the end. Do you not remember?"

Tauriel frowned. "I think so. But what does that mean? If the assaults on Greenwood have stopped, what about our neighbours?"

Nimiel breathed deeply and smiled. "We believe peace may have come to all lands. A shadow has been lifted off the world, everyone could feel it. It happened two days ago and it was the exact hour that your condition started to improve. In fact, every soldier touched by the Black Breath in the battle suddenly got better. It may mean that the reign of darkness is over – we do not know."

Tauriel needed a moment to digest the news she had heard and simultaneously she began to remember more details of the past events. "So many have fallen," she whispered more to herself than to Nimiel, "Aithanar, Fiondir, Idhrenon, so many… Sidhril is dead as well."

"Yes, my dear, she is," her mother answered quietly. She took her hand and held it tight without saying anything more. Tauriel stayed silent, trying to wrap her mind around all the things she could not possibly understand. And finally, although it was mingled with grief, exhaustion and pain, for the first time in months she felt something like hope.


	37. Green Leaves I

"When a Balrog boils my tea! March yourself back in there and lie down!" Nimiel commanded, crossing her arms and trying her best to look intimidating. It did not have much effect on her daughter who leaned in the doorframe with a sweet yet calculating smile on her face.

"Please, Nimiel, I'm perfectly fine," Tauriel purred. "You see?" She put her weight on her right leg and almost managed to suppress the painful grimace it caused. Nimiel raised an eyebrow and refrained from a comment.

"What about two hours? One?" Tauriel bargained, and when that did not work out either she played the last card she had left. "Look, I have already been forced to stay in bed the entire time while my soldiers cleaned the forest. You didn't even allow me to take part in planning the campaign."

"Exactly," Nimiel replied, "which did not stop Tuven and Glandir from coming here behind my back and telling you all about it. Taking your mind off blood and death for a while would certainly have helped your recovery."

Tauriel nodded patiently and kept up her smile, although by now it was the visual equivalent of a blade clashing with a shield. "Most definitely. And fortunately, now that all intruders north of the mountains have been eliminated and the old fortress has been destroyed, there is no more need for me to engage in such vile thoughts. All I'm asking is to be present when the king receives the delegations. I was explicitly asked to attend if my health allowed it, remember? It's expected of the Captain of the Guard, after all it's a matter of defence… of sorts."

Nimiel grabbed a piece of her apron and twisted it violently between her fingers. Tauriel observed her, trying not to think about what the very same death-grip had done to her wound not a month ago. "Please," she tried one last time, "let me leave this chamber just for one hour. I promise I will come straight back if it's too much. I'm suffocating in here, I feel like a bird in a cage! For six hundred years I have fought and bled and almost died for our home to become a better place, and now that it's beginning to happen, I'm trapped in here and can't witness any of it." She sighed in frustration and already reconciled herself with returning to her prison. The chamber itself was less burdensome than the thoughts that kept creeping into her mind whenever she could not find distraction – thoughts about of the battle she had fought, the friends she had lost, the shadow she had gone through, and of course the uncertainty about Legolas' fate.

"Fine!" Nimiel hissed with a glare somewhere between annoyance and understanding. "You may attend the meeting, but you will not leave the palace and come back here immediately if you feel any sign of faintness or pain."

"All right, don't worry! Thank you!" Tauriel answered and gave her mother a hug. When Nimiel opened her mouth to say more, her daughter was already up and away. The healer shook her head in silence, a resigned smile on her lips.

Limping and cursing under her breath every time she stumbled, Tauriel made her way to the royal quarters. She ran into Galion, who stood in front of the door to the king's reception room, trying to open it while simultaneously balancing a tray with a carafe of wine, some glasses and a bowl of dried fruit. "Tauriel!" he exclaimed when he noticed her. "What a joy to see you on your feet. How are you feeling?"

"Well enough to give you a hand," she replied and opened the door for him. The large room was still empty, except for the two guards in parade armour lingering by the fireplace. On seeing Tauriel, they both snapped to attention, visibly surprised. She signalled them to take their positions by the door.

"What are we to expect?" she whispered to Galion while he was distributing his charge on the round beech wood table in the centre of the room.

He made a grave face and answered, "The Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood will be here, of course." Tauriel nodded; like everybody else at the palace, she had already heard about the arrival of the two noble guests and their entourage the other day. Apparently the Border Guard had encountered some Galadhrim soldiers in the forest while getting rid of the last remaining Orcs near the southern border. Rumour had it the Galadhrim had torn down the old fortress and the king considered giving the southern part of Greenwood to them in turn. Tauriel did not know what to think of that, after all it was her home region.

"In addition," Galion continued, "we will receive the leaders of our treasured friends and allies, the Woodmen and the Beornings." He displayed a sour grimace and threw a pitiful look at the delicately crafted wine glasses.

Tauriel tried her hardest not to laugh. "Woodmen and Beornings," she repeated, "I believe I haven't seen any life sign of them in decades, at least not when we could have used their help, and now that there might be something in it for them, they suddenly decide to be our friends…"

"As much as I have heard, they did participate in the latest campaign against the spiders," Galion pointed out, although Tauriel was not altogether convinced.

"All I'm saying is…" she started, before she was interrupted by someone entering.

It was the king's secretary, wearing his official robes and carrying a pile of paper, various quills and a rolled up map. "Good morning, Captain," he greeted Tauriel with a short nod, taking no further notice of Galion, "I am glad to see you so well recovered."

She returned the gesture and replied, "Thank you, Lord Rosdir. May I ask if there has already been an agreement as to what will happen with the forest?"

He assessed her as if he was pondering whether a warrior would even be capable of following his words. Eventually he stated, "An agreement has indeed been made and it will be sealed now, but I do not believe it is my place to tell you in advance… Galion, would you mind?" He waved his map in the butler's face and gestured towards the table.

Galion gave him the friendliest and most artificial smile Tauriel had ever seen and pushed the glasses aside to make room for the unfolded map. Turning towards Tauriel, he rolled his eyes and silently mouthed the word "Sindar!" The captain had some difficulty keeping a straight face.

Shortly afterwards the sound of stomping feet and confused muttering in Westron – of a rather peculiar variety – announced the arrival of more newcomers. Another palace guard appeared in the doorframe, stopped and bowed her head to the captain before she stepped aside to let the visitors pass. Tauriel, Galion and Lord Rosdir were left speechless for a moment on seeing three huge, bearded mortal Men entering the reception room, immediately filling it up with their mere presence, not to mention their loud voices and their very particular smell.

"We are delighted to welcome you, my lords," the secretary brought himself to utter. He took a few hesitant steps towards them and stretched out his hand. Tauriel remembered vaguely that this was the custom among Men. The biggest one of the three, hairy as a Dwarf and clad in nothing but a pair of knee-length trousers and a woollen waistcoat, grabbed Rosdir's hand and shook it vigorously, a cordial smile on his face. The Elda stood with his back to Tauriel, but she could imagine his pained expression. She pitied him – well, almost.

The giant Man let go of Rosdir and glanced expectantly at the two other Elves. Tauriel decided it was her duty to protect Galion from the visitor's rough affection and stepped forward. "Welcome," she said jovially, making sure her hands were safely kept behind her back and thanking the Valar she could pass it off as a polite posture suitable for a soldier. "Tauriel, Captain of the Woodland Guard," she felt the need to introduce herself, seeing the Man's confusion and only remembering in this very moment that she was wearing a dress and not a uniform.

Enlightenment flashed over the visitor's large face. "I see, it's a pleasure to meet you. My late father mentioned you once or twice. He said you fought valiantly at the Lonely Mountain." Now Tauriel was at a complete loss and only replied with a tentative smile. The Man bowed his head to both her and Galion. "Grimbeorn the Old they call me, Chieftain of the Beornings. Although, in company such as this, 'old' may be inadequate." He let out a laugh that sounded like a dragon's cough – not that Tauriel had ever heard one.

"Grimbeorn," she repeated. "So, are you of the…" For lack of any appropriate words she gestured vaguely in a south-western direction, where the home of the Beornings lay.

"The Carrock," he affirmed and added with a mischievous grin, "or did you mean if I was one of the infamous skin-changers?" He stroked his abundant grey beard. "Either is true. We still live at the western edge of the forest, where the Woodmen first pledged their allegiance to my father. And indeed, like him, I can change my shape – would you like to see?"

His grin left no doubt that he was joking, but still Tauriel raised her hands and answered quickly, "No, please, don't trouble yourself!" He chuckled and gave her a light slap on the shoulder that almost made her injured leg give way, before he stepped to the table and helped himself to some dried fruit. Galion and Tauriel shared a look of silent amazement.

In the meantime the two other Men had finished their exchange with Rosdir. The secretary introduced Tauriel to the guests, "Lord Khryllm-tak and Master Hvôaram, this is Captain Tauriel of the Woodland Guard." She bowed her head, trying to ignore his obvious effort and unveiled indignation while pronouncing their names. The Woodmen themselves seemed less than impressed by the result, but they did not correct him. With their braided hair and their clean, neatly sewn garments they looked quite civilised, Tauriel noted, except for the long, curved knives both of them carried on their belts. She glared at the guards by the door and took a mental note to address this negligence before returning to the healing quarters.

It did not take long until the most distinguished participants of the meeting arrived. The king entered the room, looking rather unmotivated. After him came the Lord and Lady of Lothlórien, both as flawless and unearthly as every time Tauriel had seen them. She bowed her head as they walked past her, feeling somewhat dizzy when the lady's gaze rested on her for a moment. They were followed by a Galadhrim soldier whom Tauriel recognised with quite mixed feelings. She signalled him to step aside with her while the rulers and chieftains sat down around the table.

"Mae govannen, Haldir," she whispered, "I hoped, I mean thought, I wouldn't see you again so soon."

The soldier smirked and replied dryly, "I wish I could have spared you the surprise, dearest Tauriel, but as our captain fell at Dol Guldur five days ago and Lord Celeborn wanted a guard with a basic understanding of the Common Tongue as well as your people's… extravagant language to accompany him, here I am."

Tauriel ignored the implied insult. "May the stars of Elbereth illuminate Captain Eredhon's way to Mandos," she said quietly before she wanted to know, "Did you actually destroy Dol Guldur?"

"We did," Haldir affirmed and added smugly, "you're welcome. They attacked us three times – the first two assaults were not more than a nuisance, but the third time they penetrated Caras Galadhon. We fought them off and Lord Celeborn decided we could as well destroy their source."

"That's what I've been telling my king for centuries," Tauriel muttered.

"Anyway," Haldir continued not without pride, "we slew the spiders and the Orcs, and then Lady Galadriel tore down the walls of the fortress with her ring. What about you? I heard you had quite a fight here as well? At least your forest looks rather miserable – perhaps not more so than before, but differently miserable."

Tauriel gasped. "Does it? I haven't even seen it yet. It's true, we had a battle here and it was… well, you saw all the graves on the hill by the river, I suppose. I've been in the healing quarters ever since, I caught a morgul arrow." Haldir instantly took a step away from her. She rolled her eyes and decided her attention was better invested following the conversation at the table.

The rulers had just finished their exchange of polite greetings and the king intended to move on to business as quickly as possible. He cleared his throat to get everyone's attention. "With your permission I am now going to summarise the agreements that have been made in the last days: In memory of our mutual effort and in honour of the newly forged alliance between our peoples," he growled with a smile even more dishonest than Galion's a while before, "we have agreed on dividing Greenwood the Great, which will from this day on be called Eryn Lasgalen, the Wood of Green Leaves, in three territories."

He put his finger on the map and drew an imaginary line along the mountain chain. "The Woodland Realm will remain in the northern part. Our friends, the Woodmen and the Beornings," he all but glared at the three mortals, "will receive the area between the mountains and the narrows in the South, including the Old Forest Road. You may make your homes there and use the forest as you please, but I remind you of your promise to grant the Eldar free passage through these lands at any time."

The Men nodded solemnly, whereas the king seemed to cringe at the thought of having to bargain with them over his people's access rights to their own former territory. "The southern region," he concluded, "shall be known as East Lórien and belong to the Galadhrim as a sign of our gratitude for destroying the fortress of Dol Guldur." Tauriel feared his head was going to explode any moment from all the pretended devotion. "Is there anything you would like to add?"

The two Woodmen looked at the map, then at each other, and the older one answered, "We agree with everything that has been said."

"So do I, by my beard!" roared Grimbeorn and slammed his fist on the table.

The Lord and Lady of Lothlórien exchanged a long look, but neither of them spoke. Eventually Lord Celeborn nodded, as if they had come to a silent agreement, and Lady Galadriel said, "We are honoured to accept your generous offer, King Thranduil. Yet, as the region around Dol Guldur may still be infested by all sorts of residual dangers, we would greatly appreciate some help in making it inhabitable. So we ask you to send a part of the Woodland Guard along with our soldiers, let us say for one year, to show them the best ways of, well, staying alive in this forest." She fixed Thranduil with a friendly yet somewhat clouded gaze.

"One year?" he repeated and raised an eyebrow. "Very well, I shall do anything to ensure your people's safety. Who can expect them to know their way around this vicious place when all they have ever known is fair Lothlórien where the leaves never fall?" His words were dripping with irony, but to Tauriel's surprise Lady Galadriel did not even seem to notice. Next to Tauriel, Haldir snorted under his breath and she could not resist shooting him a fairly insolent grin.

Thranduil whispered something to Rosdir, who was sitting next to him. The secretary started scribbling on the documents he had brought. When he was done, he handed them to the king, who skimmed the first one, nodded and declared, "Let us make our agreement official by signing the contract." He handed one piece of paper to every party and all the rulers put their signatures on each document.

When everything had been completed to his satisfaction, the king rose, followed by his guests, and thanked them. "You may, of course, enjoy the hospitality of the Woodland Palace for as long as you wish," he added. 'Hopefully it's not too long,' Tauriel completed his sentence in her mind, judging by his frown.

Grimbeorn and the Woodmen left the room with Lord Rosdir and Galion, whereas the other Eldar stayed. "Haldir!" Lord Celeborn called his soldier, who walked up to him and bowed his head. The lord assessed him for a moment, as if pondering a decision. Then he asked, "You have always been fond of travelling to foreign lands, have you not?" From her position Tauriel could clearly see the wince that went through Haldir's body and she was fairly certain she knew what was to come next.

"Yes, my lord," the soldier replied as neutrally as possible.

"Well then, you will have the honourable task of going to East Lórien with some of our people. See what you can make of the place, clean it up, make it… agreeable. Learn as much as you can from the Woodland Guard – you should get along with them excellently, I trust."

Haldir gulped and repeated, "Yes, my lord. Uhm… How long do you wish me to stay?"

"For now you will stay until we return from our journey," the lord replied, and after a sympathetic look at Haldir's miserable expression he added, "Come now, this is not a punishment but an honour. I would not trust it to anyone less worthy." The soldier forced a smile.

Before Tauriel could decide whether she approved of Haldir being in charge of her old home region, the king called her to him. She crossed the room, trying her best not to limp too badly. "Captain, you will select twenty soldiers to accompany the Galadhrim to East Lórien. I suggest Lieutenant Glandir and some southern border guards."

She did not know how her mind even came up with the next idea, but before she could stop herself, she asked, "May I go myself? I'm familiar with the area and I'm sure I could be of much help to the Galadhrim."

Thranduil's eyebrows shot up and he stated calmly, "You are not yet recovered. Glandir will do very well, he has commanded the Southern Border Guard for centuries."

"So did I before him," Tauriel tried, "and I request your permission to…"

"Captain Tauriel," the king cut her short, "I have not survived three ages and twice as many wars to be eventually poisoned by my own head healer – because that is what would happen if I let you go to East Lórien in your current state. You will stay here until your health is restored, then you may offer your assistance. Now go, take Haldir with you and make the necessary arrangements. And then you will return to the healing quarters immediately or both of us shall regret this day." He sounded perfectly serious, but Tauriel saw a flicker of a smirk in the corner of his mouth.

"As you wish, my lord." She bowed to the three rulers and with a sigh of frustration she signalled Haldir to follow her.

When they had left the reception room, he stopped her, "What was that about? You can't go to the forest with an injury like this! We've got enough adversities to face there as it is."

"I know," she admitted begrudgingly, "but it kills me to be trapped here while so much is happening outside. All I can do is watch and wait and… remember." She paused, trying not to let the terrible images resurge.

Haldir watched her for a few seconds and his face showed understanding. "I see," was all he could and needed to say. "Come on, let's get you a little distracted. Show me the infamous Lieutenant Glandir, and on the way you can tell me what else I have to expect from this charming forest of yours."

She gave him a light punch on the arm. "You can talk! You aren't the one whose home region has just been bartered away."

He frowned. "That's where you come from, that savage, beast-infested area around Dol Guldur? My, my, if that doesn't explain a lot…" Tauriel was not able to tell if his incredulous stare was sincere or an act to annoy her.

"You'll meet worse things than me there, I promise," she grumbled and dragged him along.

* * *

><p>Thranduil watched the captain leave the reception room, followed by the Galadhrim guard, and could not help shaking his head at her eagerness. He understood her motives, she had the same haunted look in her eyes that he had seen with many soldiers after battle.<p>

He helped himself to a glass of wine and poured two more for his guests. "You mentioned a journey," he remarked casually to Lord Celeborn.

His kinsman nodded and affirmed, "We are going to travel to Minas Tirith soon. It is not every day that our granddaughter becomes Queen of Gondor." He raised his glass in reference to the upcoming event, however bittersweet it might be.

"Will she indeed?" Thranduil asked in surprise. "How do you know? Oh right, need I even ask?" he added with a glance at the lady. She did not notice it – in fact, she still appeared somewhat distant, as if her thoughts were far away, and her usual radiance of wisdom and power seemed more like a fading candle at present. He had never seen her like that before and he shot a confused glance at Celeborn. The lord's eyes rested on his wife as well, worried but calm. On noticing Thranduil's look, he cleared his throat and touched her hand.

She gave a small start and collected her thoughts before she replied, "Oh, yes. Given the recent events, we may safely conclude that the King of Gondor is alive and has claimed his throne in the Citadel. Besides, I have a strong feeling that our son in law and our granddaughter are already on their way to Lothlórien." She stated it like a fact and Thranduil saw Celeborn mouthing the word 'mirror'.

The king nodded knowingly and took a sip of wine, pondering the best way to address the obvious subject at hand. Eventually he started, "Given that it is still too risky to send messengers across Arda and the distance is too long to use birds – did your mirror, by any chance, have anything to say about the fate of my son?" He concentrated hard to suppress the tremble in his voice.

The lady smiled reassuringly. "It did not have to say anything grievous," she answered and Thranduil could almost feel the tension falling off him before Galadriel added, "yet the son who left you will never return to you."

The king almost dropped his glass and snapped, "What? How is that not grievous?"

Lady Galadriel looked astonished for a moment, but before Thranduil could ask her anything more, Lord Celeborn reminded her quietly, "Meleth nin, this is a worried father, he needs answers, not prophecies."

"I just gave him an answer," she pointed out.

"Indeed you did, yet…" Celeborn started, but he stopped in the middle of the sentence, obviously resolving that it was a futile effort. "Never mind." He turned to Thranduil and explained, "When the Ring-bearer's company passed through Lothlórien, Galadriel saw in Legolas' heart that he would soon hear the call of the sea. He will not find peace in this forest anymore and he will never be the same he was before his journey."

"But he is alive," Thranduil confirmed almost anxiously and was relieved to see the lady's nod. For the time being he refused to care about Legolas' presumed sea-sickness, as long as his son was safe. He emptied his glass in one gulp and sat down. He observed a short silent argument between the couple until Lady Galadriel rolled her eyes and floated dramatically over to the fireplace. Celeborn only shook his head in resignation and signalled Thranduil to pass the wine.

From across the room Galadriel addressed the king as if speaking to a less than bright child, "You see, conveying prophecies is an art of its own. Sometimes I overestimate the degree of subtlety that I can impose on certain people. I apologise if my words distressed you."

"Not at all," he grumbled and added a snide remark about the Noldor in general and Galadriel in particular in his mind, before he remembered that he should be careful with his thoughts in her proximity.

"Now, now, there is no need to drag my people into this, dear Thranduil. Or did they offend you?" came the immediate response, along with a smile as sweet as honey and a glimpse of her usual self-confidence. The king let out a very controlled breath, whereas Celeborn stoically poured himself the next glass of wine with a grimace that could be translated to 'May the games begin' – he had seen his wife and his kinsman quarrelling too many times to pay much attention.

As hard as Thranduil tried to calm down, Galadriel's attitude of unconditional superiority never failed to aggravate him. "Well, forgive me for dwelling on the past, but your people massacred my people," he snarled.

"That was six thousand five hundred years ago!" Galadriel retaliated. For once she seemed her old self again and he felt her gaze piercing right into his mind when she added, "I lost loved ones there as well. How is it my fault that my cousins were so… overeager?"

"Overeager?" Thranduil bellowed. "I would very much like to know what my mother and sisters in the Halls of Mandos would think of this choice of words. Tell me, do you simply not care or are you losing the last bit of common sense because the power of your ring is fading?"

At that Lady Galadriel stopped short and turned white as a sheet. Her imposing presence that had filled the room a minute ago was gone. Thranduil was startled for a moment because he had not foreseen the effect his words would have. Lord Celeborn set down his glass and said calmly, "That is enough, both of you." He fixed Thranduil with a firm but benevolent gaze that brooked no dissent and reminded the Elvenking why, in his childhood, he had looked up to his older relative like a hero.

Meanwhile the lady had regained her composure. She walked up to her husband and whispered something, shot Thranduil a glare that was almost physically painful and left the reception room. The king stared after her for a few seconds, then he blinked and shook his head. Lord Celeborn observed him and stated, "Now, that was not entirely necessary, was it?"

"Why are you taking her side?" Thranduil grumbled, rolling his eyes.

"Because I will return home with her, not with you," his kinsman gave back pragmatically and sat down. It took Thranduil a moment to grasp the irony, but then he allowed himself to smirk.

"I will never understand why you married her," he muttered, distributing the remaining wine in both their glasses.

Celeborn shrugged and smiled. "You do not have to." After taking a sip he added, "By the Valar, how I shall miss her when she sails."

Thranduil looked up, confused. "Will you not go with her?"

"Not yet," Celeborn replied, "as much as I too wish to see our daughter again, I cannot bring myself to leave these shores just now. I think it may do us good to spend some time apart after so many years. For her, sailing west is the only reasonable choice. You are right, the fading of her ring is affecting her. I curse the day Celebrimbor gave it to her – she has never been the same since then. She always wished to return to Valinor, but she stayed for my sake and over time she grew fond of this place. But since she received the ring, she has gradually lost all joy of living here and her thoughts have wandered to the sea more and more often. And now that its power is almost gone, she is but a shadow of herself."

Thranduil gulped, suddenly feeling like a troll trampling flowers. "I am sorry for my remark," he uttered.

"Do not trouble yourself," his kinsman answered and waved his hand. "She can be trying, I am the last one to deny that, and if I had received a coin for every Sindar joke from her relatives back in the day, I could have bought myself a Silmaril."

"I still maintain you should have married that flautist with the annoying laugh – do you remember her?" Thranduil joked.

"I do indeed," Celeborn replied and grinned. "Yet I still maintain you should have married your sharp-tongued little healer. By the way, how is she?"

Thranduil almost spat out his wine. He cleared his throat and answered coolly, "Lady Nimiel is faring well. She is working a lot, of course, after the battle. Which reminds me: Shall we go and see what my captain and your soldier have worked out regarding East Lórien?" He congratulated himself on the diversionary manoeuvre. Celeborn gave him an odd look, but in the end he agreed and they started their way to the Guard's quarters.

* * *

><p>King Elessar Telcontar, ruler of the Reunited Kingdom of Gondor and Arnor, wielder of the Reforged Blade, sat in a gloomy study in one of the many towers of his new capital and rattled off every curse in all the languages of Elves and Men that he knew – which made for quite a list. Legolas failed miserably at his effort to keep a straight face, whereas Gimli only asked bluntly, "What are you complaining about this time?"<p>

Aragorn let out a sigh of frustration that sounded as if it came from the deepest chasms of Moria. "You have no idea how lucky you are not to be a king," he gave back. "I've been stuck here doing paperwork since dawn."

"You should get a secretary and some advisors. I'm sure Imrahil or Faramir wouldn't mind assisting you for now," Legolas suggested.

Aragorn shook his head. "They have enough work to do as it is. Imrahil took it upon himself to oversee the distribution of goods among the people whose homes were destroyed. Besides, he still commands the troops. And Faramir has just returned from Ithilien and will start organising the rebuilding. I need to get used to this dull task myself." He grimaced when he took up his quill again.

Legolas grinned, knowing all too well how his friend felt. "Maybe I can help you," he offered. "I can look through the documents and sort them for you, so you know which ones you just have to sign and which ones need revising. My father and I do it this way."

"Thank you, mellon nin, that would be helpful," the king replied and Legolas sat down. Gimli, on the other hand, saw that he would not be of much help.

"What about those city gates, Aragorn?" he asked before leaving the study. "I talked to the smiths and showed them my drafts, but I doubt they will be able to implement them. I say we invite some Dwarves from my home to forge the new gates and build a few decent battlements and…"

"Yes, yes, do whatever you want as long as you don't wake a Balrog beneath my capital," Aragorn interrupted the Dwarf. Gimli graciously ignored the indelicate allusion and took his leave.

When the door had closed, Legolas decided to tackle his own mission. Truth be told, helping Aragorn with his paperwork was not entirely a selfless action – he had two requests to make and was not sure if they would be well received, so he began with a harmless subject. "Gimli may be right in saying the city needs new defences, but I think a little green would do no harm either. In fact, Arwen agrees with me. By the way, your White Tree is growing nicely. I went up there this morning with Lord Elrond and Lady Galadriel and we found Sam pulling out weeds around it."

Aragorn chuckled. "He's probably the best gardener Minas Tirith has ever seen. I should offer him a permanent position, but I guess he prefers his own garden in the Shire."

Pleased with the direction this conversation was taking, Legolas started, "Speaking of which: Almost three months have passed since the final battle and you know it has been a pleasure and an honour to be here with you for your coronation and your wedding…"

"I know what you're about to say," the king interrupted him with a melancholic smile. "You want to go home and I perfectly understand, although it will pain me to see all of you leave soon. Let me suggest something: Éomer should come back from Rohan any day now to take King Théoden's body home. Arwen and I will go to Edoras with him to pay our respects, attend his coronation and Faramir and Éowyn's betrothal. The Hobbits, Gandalf and the people of Imladris and Lothlórien will come as well, so how about you and Gimli join us and continue north afterwards?"

Legolas nodded, not entirely happy about yet another delay but grateful for the opportunity to be with his friends during these important events. "I will go with you," he agreed, "and I'm sure so will Gimli." He paused, clearing his throat, before he eventually continued, "I have another request to make. Faramir and I have been talking a lot about how much time and effort it will take to restore Ithilien to its former state. I only saw it in ruins, but I believe the old stories that call it the fairest country of the westlands, and I think it can be just that again, as well as a reliable stronghold against any possible threats from the South. I would like to help rebuild it, so if you allow it, I will bring some of my people to Ithilien for as long as our kind may stay on these shores and make it healthy and green again."

For a moment Aragorn was speechless, but he found his composure again soon enough. "Why, of course I allow it!" he exclaimed and laid his hand on Legolas' shoulder. "You and your people shall be most welcome to stay as long as you want."

"Thank you," Legolas answered, "that is if I can convince Tauriel to come with me and my father to let me go without making me feel too guilty, I should add." He tried to smile, but it did not turn out as convincing as he had hoped.

Aragorn observed him and said without a hint of irony, "You are a curious sort of hero, Legolas Thranduilion. You regret not helping to protect your home, don't you, when you did in fact help to save the whole world instead."

"You don't understand," Legolas gave back, taking a quill from the desk and twisting it between his fingers. "Lady Galadriel told me what happened in Greenwood. They burnt our forest and slaughtered our people, and I wasn't there. I regret that, of course, and I thank the Valar every waking moment for keeping my father and Tauriel alive – but I don't actually… miss my home. All my life I was certain the Greenwood was where I belonged, but since that Eru-forsaken day at the haven of Pelargir, I can't imagine finding peace there ever again, or anywhere else on these shores. It scares me, Aragorn! It sounds ridiculous, but all I wish is to be homesick. Well, I am – just not for the place I used to call home." He stopped, staring down at the stack of paper in front of him.

The king let out a deep breath, unsure what to say. Legolas managed to look up and smile. "One would think after seven hundred and thirteen years I should be able to handle my own feelings," he mumbled and shrugged. "I'll just wait and see – I bet when Tauriel hears about all this, she'll ask me if I've inhaled too many poisonous fumes in Mordor… Now, shall we get this paperwork done?"


	38. Green Leaves II

The funeral of King Théoden under a green hill near Meduseld ended with a song, composed by the royal minstrel and sung by the people who had come to pay their respects. Legolas did not understand the words, but the faces of the Rohirrim told the story just as well. Poor Merry could hardly contain his grief and tears ran down his cheeks during the whole ceremony. It took a lot of soothing words from his fellow Hobbits and Gandalf to comfort him.

When the procession, led by Éomer and Éowyn, wandered slowly back to the Golden Hall, the Eldar of Imladris, Lothlórien and Greenwood stayed behind and said blessings of their own. They laid bunches of sage and rosemary on the hill and Lady Galadriel recited an ancient poem to make Mandos receive the king's soul with kindness. Then they quietly followed the procession.

The solemn atmosphere did not last long, as Legolas noted with great astonishment. In the belief of the Rohirrim, as soon as the old king had joined his ancestors in the next world, the new one was required to claim the throne, so Éomer's coronation followed immediately after the funeral. When the Eldar arrived, it seemed as if every man, woman and child of the Mark were assembled in the Golden Hall. They squeezed their way through the crowd as best they could and found a place on the side, from where they could observe what was happening. "The perks of being tall," whispered Elrohir to his sister before his father silenced him with a discrete nudge in the ribs.

Éomer stood in front of the throne, flanked by three old men on the right and the Captain of the King's Guard on the left. The first loremaster unrolled a tattered parchment and started to read out the names of all the kings who had ruled the Mark, beginning with Eorl the Young, founder of Rohan. Elladan leaned over to Legolas and mumbled, "I don't know about you, but I can recite the line of my ancestors by heart."

The prince felt the need to take Éomer's side and objected, "But we haven't got that many. These Edain are so incredibly short-lived…" Suddenly he felt Lady Galadriel's severe gaze on the back of his head and deemed it wiser to be quiet.

When the loremaster had reached the present day and proclaimed Éomer's name, the second wise man stepped forward with a crown in his hands. Éomer let him set it on his head. Next came the Captain of the King's Guard and presented an old, rusty ceremonial sword. To the great bewilderment of the Eldar, Éomer cut his own hand with it. This time Lord Elrond could not refrain from remarking that a wound full of rust was not the most agreeable way to start one's reign and that it might be one reason for the high mortality in Rohan's royal line. The Elves tried their best to keep straight faces; even Lord Erestor's mouth twitched slightly and Lord Glorfindel barely managed to turn his chuckle into a cough.

Éomer raised his bleeding hand and the third loremaster walked up to him, holding a clay bowl filled with what looked like soil. The blood dripped into the bowl while the old man intoned an ancient verse. "The king is now bound to his land by body and soul," Erestor translated, who had probably studied every language ever spoken in Arda.

At last Lady Éowyn emerged from the crowd with a cup in her hands that she gave to her brother. He emptied it, walked to the throne and sat down. "Hail, Éomer, King of the Mark!" shouted the crowd before everyone in the hall with a cup at their disposal drank to the new king's health. The official part of the coronation seemed to be concluded, as Legolas presumed by watching the loremasters and the captain vanishing in the crowd.

Éomer, however, stayed on his throne and glanced at his people expectantly until the noise level lowered. "People of Edoras," he started, "friends from faraway lands! As my first official act as king," he paused a moment when his own words sunk into his consciousness and blinked two or three times in astonishment, "well, as I said, as my first official act I would like to make a joyous announcement: Lord Faramir, Steward of Gondor and Prince of Ithilien, asks Lady Éowyn of Rohan for her hand and she grants it full willing. Therefore they shall be trothplighted before you all." The crowd began cheering hesitantly when Éowyn came forward, gesturing cluelessly, and Éomer let his eyes wander the hall in search of Faramir.

Legolas looked around too, only to see the Gondorian in question trying to push his way through while repeating his sincerest apologies to the Rohirrim. With a last "Excuse me, may I please… Thank you!" he finally reached the free space before the throne, where Éowyn had turned crimson in the meantime. Legolas noticed that all three of Lord Elrond's children were almost suffocating in their attempt not to laugh out loud.

Éomer laid the couple's hands together and declared, "May this bond tighten the friendship between our realms." He drew a knife from his pocket and held it out for Faramir to take, who looked at the weapon, then back at Éomer, and whispered very audibly, "What?"

Even over the chuckles of the people, Legolas could hear the king's answer, "You have to draw blood from each other's hands to seal your promise. It's tradition – didn't Éowyn explain that to you?"

"She did," Faramir gave back, affirmed by the lady's nod, "but I was certain she was joking. I'm not cutting her! Why is everything about bloodshed with you people?" Éomer let out a sigh and gave the confused crowd an awkward grin. Legolas had a sudden vision of all the cultural differences that might make Faramir and Éowyn's day-to-day life in Ithilien a true sight to behold, which consolidated his plan to move there.

Now Éowyn took the knife from her brother and suggested, "How about I go first?" Without waiting for an answer, she sliced Faramir's palm in one determined movement.

He frowned but eventually he conceded, "Fine!" Carefully he followed her example, his face reflecting much more pain than when he had received his own cut. When it was done, Éomer quickly pressed their hands together once more and took back his knife. At last the crowd applauded, but Legolas did not fail to notice Faramir's muttering, "We're having the wedding in Gondor, that's for sure!" Éowyn only smiled and nodded soothingly.

Next to Legolas, the Eldar exchanged sceptical looks. "Now that is going to be an interesting marriage," Erestor pointed out.

Arwen objected, "Don't be so prosaic, Lord Erestor! It is a very sweet love story, Aragorn told it to me. They met in the Houses of Healing, both recovering from the Black Breath. Personally, I like Éowyn and I hope we shall become good friends."

"Fortunately for everyone involved, she was quick in changing targets once she learned that Aragorn was taken," Elrohir contributed with a grin. Only when everybody fell silent and displayed awkward grimaces, he noticed that his joke might have been inappropriate.

"Beg your pardon?" Arwen said slowly, glaring in Éowyn's direction. Legolas, Elladan, Elrond and Celeborn simultaneously rolled their eyes and Glorfindel murmured to Erestor, "Is anyone else sensing the first minor marital strife in the Citadel?"

Galadriel shot him a murderous look and interjected quickly, "Let us all find something to eat, shall we?" As everyone knew how unwise it was to object her, the Eldar pretended nothing had happened and started their way towards the food tables.

* * *

><p>Not long after the celebration, it was time to leave Edoras for most of the guests. As the Hobbits, the Eldar, the wizard and the Dwarf were all headed west, they embarked on their journey together. Aragorn and some of his people would accompany them until the Gap of Rohan before travelling back to Gondor.<p>

It was a quiet journey because it had been preceded by many goodbyes. The most painful one had undoubtedly been said between Arwen and her father and grandmother because, although they had not fixed an exact date yet, both ring-bearers would sail to the Undying Lands very soon. Legolas could not and did not want to imagine what it felt like to see one's family for the last time in all eternity. Once more his wish to return to his father and Tauriel grew stronger.

The journey's first stop was the fortress of Helm's Deep, where most of the battle's damage had already been repaired. Legolas had no choice but to fulfil his promise to Gimli and visit the infamous Glittering Caves with him. At first he was reluctant to go underground, but when he came back into the sunlight after wandering the hauntingly beautiful halls and passages of shimmering stone for four hours straight, he could not find words to describe what he had seen and had to refer everyone who asked him about it to Gimli. "Never before has an Elf been defeated by a Dwarf in a contest of words," he admitted without holding the slightest grudge against his friend. Gimli was still in awe and did not object when Legolas requested, "Let us go to Fangorn next to set the score right."

The company rode on to Isengard, only to find the place hardly recognisable. The Ents welcomed them and Treebeard explained how they had eliminated many Orcs coming from the North – at that Lord Celeborn apologised for letting others clean up the mess the Galadhrim had swept out of their forest. Moreover, the Ents had transformed the destroyed and sickened landscape around Orthanc into a green garden with orchards and brooks. According to Treebeard, Saruman had left a while ago and was now wandering west. No one, Gandalf least of all, was too thrilled to hear that news, but after all the evil they had faced a ruined wizard with no staff seemed but a minor nuisance.

As much as Legolas tried to delay it, the time to take his leave of his friends had come. First he addressed those he was certain to see again on the same shores of the world. He gratefully accepted the Hobbits' invitation to come and visit the Shire one day and shook each one's hand. Then he hugged Aragorn and promised to let him know as soon as possible what had become of his plans to live in Ithilien. To Elladan and Elrohir he said that he would come to see them in Imladris eventually and invited them to Greenwood in turn. "If you aren't afraid of the dark, that is!" Lord Celeborn gave him a fair warning about how altered the forest would be, along with a friendly embrace and a half-serious threat to behave himself if he ever set foot in East Lórien.

Now followed the more long-lasting goodbyes. Although Glorfindel and Erestor had never been his closest friends, the notion of them leaving this world forever felt strangely melancholic. To Lord Elrond Legolas had nothing to say but his heartfelt thanks for everything he had taught him. "Whatever it is like over there, I hope very much to cross paths with you again in the Undying Lands."

"And so you shall, I am sure," Elrond replied. "May the sun and the stars guide your way by day and night until then."

Lady Galadriel smiled at him and said, "I assure you, it is a very agreeable place 'over there' and over time its beauty will soothe the loss that you will bear in your heart when you set your sail."

"Please, meleth nin," Lord Celeborn whispered in her ear, shaking his head ever so slightly.

The lady raised an eyebrow, but a moment later she smiled at Legolas again. "Never mind. I look forward to welcoming you there."

"Thank you," he answered, feeling rather puzzled.

Next to him, Gimli came up and looked at the lady with an expression full of misery. "By Dúrin's beard, it has been an honour and a joy to have known the Lady of the Woods and it pains me to part from her now forever." He bowed deeply, ignoring Lord Celeborn's watchful glance at his axe.

Galadriel's face showed pity and amusement at the same time. "Dear Gimli, son of Glóin, the honour and joy are all mine. Do not trouble yourself over those you part from today. Fate has its very own unexpected ways sometimes." With that she gave him an enigmatic smile and nodded her goodbye.

Gandalf made one or two jokes when the Elf and the Dwarf took their leave from him, but he did not manage to hide how moved he was. In the end he told them to get out of his sight quickly or he would get sentimental for the first time in his long life. So they did; as always, they mounted their horse together and tried not to look back too often until their friends vanished from their sight.

Fangorn Forest was as magnificent and mystical as Legolas remembered it from his first short visit. The trees needed a while to adjust to the presence of a Dwarf, but when Legolas could convince them that the visitors had the approval of Treebeard himself, the old oaks, willows and pines calmed down and a little while later some of them started to tell him their stories. The friends spent two days in the forest, until Gimli put his foot down and declared that enough was enough. Legolas gave in, impressed by the Dwarf's patience and self-conquest that had made him stay so long in the first place.

At the edge of the forest they made their camp for the night and decided they would continue their journey by crossing the Anduin again and travelling around Greenwood in the East. After passing Esgaroth, their ways would part for the time being.

"You know, you're not a bad fellow, for a pointy-ear I mean," Gimli said while throwing pine cones into the campfire and puffing his pipe.

Legolas made a grave face and answered as earnestly as he could, "For an axe-wielding gnome all covered in hair and metal, you're not the worst company either." Both of them grinned.

Gimli started fiddling around in his pocket and produced a small raw gem, sparkling in every colour of the rainbow in the light of the fire. He held it under Legolas' nose and asked, "I found this in the caverns. Would you like to give your captain something pretty when you get home?"

The Elf looked at the gem, then at Gimli, and frowned. "You have to break everything beautiful that you see, don't you?"

"And you have to sympathise with every tree and every rock, right?" the Dwarf retaliated. "It was already loose, I picked it off the floor, by Mahal's axe! When we come to Esgaroth, I could prove to you that I'm not only good at cutting down Orcs but also at cutting gems. I could find a smithy and set it into a pendant, or a bracelet, or a ring perhaps."

Legolas pondered his options for a moment, but at last he agreed, "That would be nice. She isn't the type for jewellery, but I guess the engagement holly twig I gave her could eventually be replaced by something more durable."

Gimli smirked. "I thought so. You know, with that whole Ithilien business of yours, I have made up my mind…" He paused, gnawing on his pipe.

"Well?" Legolas probed.

"I was thinking, maybe I could establish a small dwarven colony in the Glittering Caves if Éomer lets me. Of course we wouldn't exploit them, we would tend them and open up new ways to gain access to the chambers that are still hidden. We would make lights to awaken the beauty of the countless sparkling colours. I say, an endless pilgrimage of Dwarves would come to see such wonder!"

Gimli's eyes shone with ardour and Legolas could only encourage him in his plan. "You should do that! If the Rohirrim don't appreciate the beauty that lies hidden under their mountain, the Dwarves certainly will."

"It's a pact then!" Gimli declared. "You will plant trees and make Ithilien green again, and I will be the guardian of the Glittering Caves."

Legolas nodded. "So be it!"

They rested calmly that night with the trees of Fangorn now watching over their sleep instead of menacing them. At the first light of dawn they were already up and packing their belongings. With the last stage of their journey ahead of them, both of them felt restless and more than ready to get home. It was still a substantial ride that would take weeks, but there was no reason to delay it further.

When Legolas pulled Gimli up on the horse's back, the Dwarf seemed almost melancholic. "Come on, you long-suffering old nag," he said to Arod and petted his flank gently, "one more ride across half of Arda and you shall be rid of us – well, of me at least."

The Elf turned around in astonishment. "Gimli, my friend, could it be that you are growing fond of the horse? It would be a great sacrifice, of course, but under these circumstances I would be willing to let you take him to Erebor," he joked.

Gimli instantly resumed his usual scowl and muttered, "He would end up in a stew soon enough, the blasted beast. Best use for a horse, I say. Let's get going, shall we?"

In all their lifetime neither Legolas nor Gimli had undertaken a journey so quiet and free of adversities as this one. It was strange to encounter no Orcs, Wargs, Trolls or other dangers on the road at all. During the first week they still held on to their weapons at all times and took turns sleeping, but soon they realised that this was what the new world they had fought for looked like.

They reached Esgaroth on a mild summer evening and when they rode into the town upon the lake, lots of old memories came back to Legolas. The streets and houses showed no sign of recent destruction, but the people who noticed the strange travellers eyed them as warily as ever. It did not take long to find the local silversmith's shop and Gimli convinced the owner with courteous words and a substantial amount of coins to let him use his tools for an hour or two.

In the meantime Legolas waited in front of the shop and got into conversation with the smith's neighbour, a baker who insisted on giving him a piece of cake of suspicious exterior but agreeable taste in exchange for some news from the wide world, because all she had heard were rumours. He obliged her and told the tale of King Elessar and the Reunited Kingdom of the West. In turn the woman informed him about the happenings in the Realm of Dale that had been assaulted by Easterlings. King Brand had joined forces with Dáin Ironfoot, but both lords had fallen in a devastating battle at the Gate of Erebor. In the end the Men of Dale and Esgaroth and the Dwarves had been forced to barricade themselves in the Lonely Mountain until receiving the news of Sauron's defeat. After that they had summoned their last strength and broken the siege, chasing the enemies out of Dale. "It was horrible and we're simply grateful to be alive and to have our homes preserved. The old ones say they have seen worse, but personally, I don't need any more bloodshed for the rest of my lifetime," the baker concluded.

When Gimli came out of the workshop, he presented both a beautiful silver ring with the gem from the caves and a very gloomy face. The smith had told him the same story that Legolas had just heard from the baker. "I won't find a wink of sleep before I've seen my family," the Dwarf declared. "I'm leaving for Erebor tonight, I don't care if I have to walk in the dark." Legolas understood him perfectly.

The two friends said goodbye at the city gate of Esgaroth. They did not need many words because they knew they would see each other again soon. "Travel safely, mellon nín," Legolas said and laid his hand on the Dwarf's shoulder.

Gimli nodded. "You too, my friend." With that he turned around and took the eastern road, not looking back. Legolas watched him for a while before he mounted the horse and directed it towards the river that would lead him to the edge of Greenwood.

* * *

><p>"All right, Captain, as you see, we're managing fine here. You can tell your king that East Lórien is in capable hands," Haldir said with his best smug grin while glancing not very subtly over to her waiting horse.<p>

She swallowed the answer she would have liked to give him on such a blunt dismissal. "Indeed," she replied instead, "it seems you are adjusting so well that I could withdraw my soldiers altogether." Lieutenant Glandir, standing next to her, gave her a meaningful look that clearly said 'From your lips to Eru's ears!' They exchanged a frown of mutual understanding.

Tauriel had accompanied the Border Guard units that would relieve the ones currently stationed in East Lórien. She had wanted to see with her own eyes what the Galadhrim were making of her homeland and despite her reluctance to admit it, they had done fairly well. There were no more spider webs, no more parasitic vegetation of doubtful origin and no more bloodsucking black butterflies. The trees looked considerably healthier than the last time she had visited the place, which was impressive, given that it had been the most infested part of the whole forest.

"Except for these strange tree houses you built, I'll say it's not half as bad as I expected," she concluded, directing her steps towards the horse.

Haldir bowed his head in ironic reverence. "Coming from you, that does mean a lot. And you're right, tree houses only work in mallorn trees. We should bring some seeds and…"

"Don't you dare!" she interjected. "This is Greenwood, or Eryn Lasgalen, or whatever – not Lothlórien! So, no mallorn trees, I beg you!"

The Galadhrim chuckled. "Fine then, no foreign vegetation as long as Captain Tauriel comes visiting. By the way, you asked me to take a look at the area between the cliff and the swamp." She nodded, suddenly all ears. Haldir gave her an odd look. "There's nothing, only trees and ivy. Why did you want to know?"

Tauriel answered quickly, "Oh, I just wanted to be sure there were no more spiders in that particular place. A village lay there once, you know, but that was almost seven hundred years ago, so of course there would be nothing left of it."

"Ah, I see. Did you know anyone there?" Haldir started, but he stopped when he caught Glandir's discreet shake of the head. Understanding flickered over his face and he cleared his throat. "Right! If there is nothing more you would like to inspect, Captain, I wish you a safe return journey."

Tauriel thanked him and wished him well in return. While Glandir summoned the soldiers who would leave with the captain, she did her best to mount the horse without letting anyone notice how difficult that was with an almost immobile and still hurting knee. In the meantime Haldir had enough tact to pretend he was observing the soldiers. When everyone was ready, Tauriel took her leave of Glandir and the group set out north.

Even though she had already made the same way in the other direction, Tauriel could not wonder enough at the change the forest had undergone. Not only did it look different, it felt unfamiliar as well. Where the air had been thick and the shadows had been menacing before, now there was sunlight and growing life everywhere. Even the burnt trees were partly overgrown by grass and ivy and for the first time in decades the chirping of birds was a constant sound that mingled with the soft whispering of the summer wind in the treetops. It was almost too idyllic for Tauriel's taste, because she was always waiting for a spider to burst out of the bushes or a swarm of poisonous bats to emerge from the next tree – but nothing of the kind happened.

In the lands that now belonged to the Woodmen and the Beornings, no sign of civilisation could be seen, but a corporal informed Tauriel that lots of them had indeed made their homes in the area. "They prefer not to be disturbed," he explained and Tauriel was not too disappointed at all that she would not have to pay a visit to Khryllm-tak or Grimbeorn.

The journey passed as quietly as it had begun. Soon the first soldiers of the Palace Guard welcomed the travellers, which meant the company was but one mile away from home. The captain, however, sent the soldiers ahead by themselves and took a detour to the river.

West of the Woodland Halls the water ran between two hills, where there had once been lots of mighty beeches that the fire had taken. One of the hills remained untouched, with the burnt trees still lying everywhere, as a reminder of what had happened. The other one had become a field of graves. Stone cairns that Tauriel had never dared to count covered the bodies of the soldiers who had given their lives in the Battle under the Trees.

She slid off the horse and walked between the cairns. She had visited the grave hill several times before, but the thought that all these people had been her comrades and some of them her friends still made her stomach cramp. In her mind she saw their faces and heard their voices, remembered the patrols and fights she had seen through with them and the laughter and stories they had shared. For a moment everything came back and the sadness overwhelmed her. She had cried so many tears for her friends that there were none left, so she only stood between the stones and tried to keep breathing until she felt that the lump in her throat was gone. Quietly she started humming the song that a bard had written the day after the battle in honour of the dead and to remind the survivors of the blessing to be alive and have a home.

After finishing the song, Tauriel walked to a grave on the left side of the hill. She pulled a half-dried daisy out of her pocket and placed it on the stones. "Mae govannen, Sidhril," she whispered. "I brought you something from the forest. There are flowers growing everywhere now, can you imagine? I didn't want to pick more because they look so pretty beneath the trees, but I figured there probably weren't any flowers in the Halls of Mandos, so I brought you this one at least." She smiled weakly and picked a bit of ash that the wind had blown over from the other hill off the stones. "I miss you. There is so much I want to share with you, but you simply aren't here anymore. I'm so sorry you can't see all the things that are happening in our forest right now. I hope your new home is a tolerably nice place and being a bodiless soul isn't as dull as I imagine it. At least you aren't alone over there, with all our comrades who have gone the same way."

She gulped and looked at the grave next to Sidhril's. "Well, Fiondir, I never thought I would say this, but I miss you too. I appointed Draugwen as your successor – yes, I know you don't think much of her, but she's doing fine. Only she's so… nice and respectful to me. I'm not used to that, duty is far too quiet without you contradicting me all the time. You know, I'm grateful you did that, it often helped me question my decisions and make the right choices. We may not have gotten along all the time, but you taught me a lot. Thank you for that."

She took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. "I have to go, but I'll be back to annoy you two eventually." That said, she walked back to the horse that was calmly munching grass at the foot of the hill. "Come on, mellon, let's go home," she said and heaved herself on his back, this time without giving a Troll's toenail about elegance.

When she reached the palace, she found the gate open and unguarded, a sight that had not been seen in a century. Alation usually knew what he was doing, so she did not mind too much, but it would take her a while to get used to living in a safe environment. A palace guard walked across the courtyard and seemed to get strangely nervous on seeing her. He saluted, but the next instant he hurried off to the Guard's quarters as if he had just remembered an urgent errand. Tauriel shook her head and resolved it was none of her business. She took the horse to the stable, where she was greeted curiously by a beautiful grey stallion she had never noticed before. She allowed him to sniff her hand thoroughly and petted his neck for a while, but then she followed her sense of duty and left the stable.

Halfway to the Guard's quarters Alation and Tuven came hurrying towards her, their faces stern and their steps determined. "Tauriel!" Tuven called. "Finally you're back! You need to come to the captain's office straight away."

"Why, what is the matter?" she asked, but Alation was already dragging her in the indicated direction.

"Urgent business, no time to explain," was all he answered.

In Tauriel's mind a hundred scenarios appeared at once, trying to make sense of this sudden emergency. Before she could figure out a plausible explanation, they reached the office. Tuven knocked on the door and opened it, Alation shoved her inside, and without so much of a word both of them saluted and left, a suspicious grin on their faces. Tauriel glanced after them in utter bewilderment. She turned around to see what the mysterious business was all about and almost tripped over her own feet when she realised who was standing by the bookshelf on the opposite side of the room.

"You took your time, Captain," Legolas said and smiled at her.

At first Tauriel was too stunned to think of a reply. She had expected him to return eventually, given Lady Galadriel's words, but now that she saw him and heard his voice after so many months of fearing for his life, it finally dawned on her that everything was real, that the war was over and not all stories of her people ended sadly. She walked up to him with slow steps and felt her lips curl into a smile. Silently they took each other's hands and stayed immobile, simply looking at each other, until all of a sudden Tauriel felt that her emotions were going to choke her. Something in the middle between a laugh and a sob burst out of her and she flung her arms around Legolas' neck, unwilling to let go anytime soon. He held her tight and stroked the back of her head.

"You kept your promise," Tauriel whispered at last.

"Of course I did," it came back.

He broke the embrace and his fingertips brushed over her cheek. Only then did she realise that he was wiping away her tears. She brought her face close to his and kissed him, carefully at first, as if she could break the enchantment of the moment, but soon she allowed her lips to tell him how much she had missed him and he replied the same way.

After a small eternity Tauriel asked, "When did you come back?"

"Yesterday," Legolas gave back with a look of ironic reproach, "and you weren't here!"

"I was in the South," she explained, "that we now have to call 'East Lórien' because your father gave it to the Galadhrim." She rolled her eyes and Legolas chuckled.

"I know, I've heard all about it from Lord Celeborn in Minas Tirith. From what he told me, my father wasn't entirely wrong in giving it away, as ravaged as it is." He paused and assessed Tauriel with a sceptical look. "Seriously, I leave you people alone for just a few months and you manage to burn down half the forest!"

She gave him an affectionate nudge. "Excuse me? What am I supposed to say? I let you and your eight strange friends wander off on your own, and next time I look, we have a whole new world order!" she retaliated.

He shrugged and grinned smugly. "Well, you know, it happens." Both of them started laughing.

"What did your father say when you walked through the door?" Tauriel wanted to know.

"At first he said nothing," Legolas replied, "he only attempted to choke me with a hug. But we spent the whole night talking. I told him my story and he told me what happened here, how many soldiers died…"

Tauriel nodded. "An awful lot. Sidhril is one of them."

"Great Eru, I'm so sorry," he uttered and took her hand. She gave him a faint smile and they stayed silent for a while, until he asked carefully, "What about you? Nimiel mentioned…" He gestured towards her leg.

She let out a snort of bitter amusement. "Ironic, isn't it? You go to Mordor and come back without a scratch, and I stay right here at the palace and wind up with a morgul arrow that will keep me limping like a three-legged dog for the rest of my life. I know, it's a small price to pay for being alive, but I haven't dared pick up a blade or a bow since then because now I'm probably the most useless soldier this realm has ever seen." She tried to grin, but Legolas saw how miserable she felt.

"First of all, I wouldn't bet on that," he gave back. "And even if it were true, what you call a useless soldier is what others call a war hero."

"Said the one who walked to Mordor and back," Tauriel muttered, rolling her eyes, but after a short pause she asked, "So, will you still marry me as the limping, Black Breath infested, useless war hero that I have become?"

Legolas smiled at her. "Nothing could stop me." He pulled her close and kissed her once more. "Oh, by the way," he added, sliding his hand into his pocket, "I brought you a souvenir."

"From Mordor?" she asked incredulously.

"No, not quite," Legolas reassured her, "half of it comes from Rohan, the other half from Esgaroth, and the craftsmanship is Ereborian." He took her hand and put Gimli's ring on her finger. "I thought, unlike my pebble, your holly twig might not have survived the war."

"Actually it has," Tauriel answered, "but I won't refuse this beautiful gift either way. Thank you – what kind of gem is this?" She turned her hand and admired the different colours that flickered in the changing light.

"Believe it or not, there is a whole cave in Rohan that looks like this," Legolas explained. "Gimli took the gem from there and set it in the ring."

Tauriel's eyebrows shot up. "Gimli – the Dwarf? He made this ring for you?"

"He did," Legolas confirmed. "He's actually not so bad… for a Dwarf." On seeing Tauriel's 'Haven't I always told you so' face, he added, "In fact, I would never have expected that mortals made such honourable warriors and wonderful friends. I met some truly remarkable people."

"Naturally I expect you to tell me about each and every one of them," Tauriel declared, "and about all the places you went and all the battles you fought."

"That will take quite a while," Legolas pointed out.

Tauriel nodded, smiling. "Don't we have all eternity?"

"You're right, meleth nín, we do," he replied and took her in his arms.


	39. White Snowflakes

Legolas Thranduilion was on a mission, a mission of complex nature and uncertain outcome that would require a diplomatic effort as well as his skills in archery. His plan was elaborate and as fail proof as it would get, and the time had come to implement it. To put it short: He had set out to determine his future.

The first point on his list of targets was his father. As the evening had already progressed, Legolas found the king in his private chambers, sitting quietly in his favourite armchair with a book and the obligatory glass of Dorwinion by the light of a candle. It was a peaceful sight, one that the prince had not seen for a long time, and he felt a smile curving his lips. "Good evening, Adar," he addressed his father, "may I speak to you?"

Thranduil looked up and nodded. "Of course, have a seat." He put down the book while Legolas occupied the second armchair. "What is on your mind?"

The prince braced himself internally. He had rehearsed his speech various times in his head, but now that he was facing his father, he decided to start with a more harmless subject. "I heard some families are planning to settle in the forest again. I'm not sure what to think of that. What do you say?"

Thranduil raised an eyebrow; of all the topics he had expected, this was obviously not the most probable one. "If it is their wish to return to the forest, I see no objection. They have lived there for centuries and I understand their desire to leave the halls." He took a sip of wine, observing his son quizzically.

Legolas nodded and took the liberty of pouring a glass for himself as well. "I do believe it is safe now," he rambled on, "and if there should be any remaining spiders, we still have the Forest Guard to take care of…"

"For the love of Ilúvatar, ion nín, will you just spill it out?" Thranduil interrupted him, trying to sound severe but with a glint of amusement in his eyes. "It is hardly a mystery to me why you have sought me out, nor is it to anyone else at the palace. I could give you my answer right away, but I deem it fair for you to say it out loud at least once."

Legolas blinked and cleared his throat. He had not expected this kind of efficiency, that much was certain. "As you wish," he replied, not entirely ungrateful for the turn this conversation was taking. "Adar, I hereby inform you of my betrothal to Tauriel, Captain of the Guard, which took place in Imladris the day before I embarked on my journey, and I ask your blessing to wed her." There it was, he had said it.

Thranduil stayed completely immobile and emotionless for what felt like a decade. At last he assumed his most kingly expression and fixed Legolas with a firm gaze. "I see. My dear son, let me tell you my opinion on this secret betrothal of yours."

'Here we go again,' Legolas thought and made an enormous effort not to roll his eyes or grimace.

"Lately I have found myself in the position of not giving a Warg's tooth about who you do or do not wed," the king stated in all his royal demeanour, "as long as you stay alive and do not venture on any suicidal quests anymore. As for Tauriel, I was right in entrusting the safety of my people to her, so I may as well entrust her with my son's happiness. You have my sincerest blessing – my mere consent is not required anyway, if I know the two of you at all. I suppose I can be grateful not to be presented with… sealed matters, if you grasp my meaning."

At that Legolas felt his cheeks blush, but at the same time it dawned on him that the most delicate part of his mission had just come to an unexpectedly easy fulfilment. "Uhm, thank you for your… complaisance," he mumbled, astonished to see his father smirking.

"You are aware of the fact that people have already started placing bets on the day you would make your announcment, are you not?" the king asked, obviously enjoying making his son uncomfortable. "You cannot expect them to overlook that ring on your finger and that, well, peculiar expression you are carrying around."

"To tell the truth, I did not expect either to be overlooked," Legolas clarified with as much dignity as he could muster.

Thranduil nodded, his face still dripping with amusement. "Is that so? Very well then, you have succeeded. Now let us think about the practical aspects of your… scheme. Have the two of you made up your minds as to when the wedding shall be held? And, more importantly, what is to become of the post of the Captain of the Guard? Will Tauriel renounce it? In fact, where is she? She should be here with us."

"She wanted to," Legolas interjected, a little overwhelmed by the sudden flood of questions, "but I preferred talking to you alone at first." What he did not mention was his notion to go to Ithilien – in any case, Tauriel needed to hear about that first and it was part of his battle plan to enlighten her soon.

"Ah, well," the king considered, "usually these matters are discussed at the betrothal feast. However, I do not deem it appropriate yet to hold such a celebration while the realm is still mourning the victims of the war."

"Absolutely not," Legolas agreed, maybe a little too decidedly, "both Tauriel and I wish to respect the current circumstances."

Thranduil nodded slowly. "On the other hand, it would be quite a disgrace not to acknowledge my only son's betrothal at all," he mused. "I suggest, instead of a public celebration, we shall have a private dinner just among the close family to mark the event and discuss the necessary arrangements. The day after tomorrow should be convenient."

Legolas found no reason to reject this idea, although he was torn between anticipation and dread when imagining his father and Tauriel trapped at the same table for several hours. "So we shall," he replied. "You, me, Tauriel and Lady Nimiel gathering for a quiet dinner will hardly count as a violation of the mourning period."

"Certainly not," the king affirmed. He gave his son a long look that spoke of joy and melancholy at once. Eventually he raised his glass and said, "The last time we drank to your betrothal, I may have been more enthusiastic about the bride, but this time I am all the more convinced that your choice – your own choice – will make you happy." He emptied the glass. Legolas, moved and relieved beyond words, followed his example.

* * *

><p>Inspired by the success of his mission's first stage, Legolas directed his steps to the armoury. To face his next target, more precisely his betrothed, he would need heavier gear than just pretty words. He grabbed his Galadhrim bow that he had received from Lady Galadriel during the quest, as well as Tauriel's extravagant but all he more cherished curved hunting bow and a quiver filled with arrows.<p>

As they had agreed, he found Tauriel waiting for him at the main gate. She greeted him with a bright smile – hopefully it was an honest one and not just painted on to cover the frustration that had been boiling in her since she had come to terms with her injury. Her self-esteem had suffered great damage and part of Legolas' plan was to lift her morale a bit before bringing up the subject of Ithilien.

"Good evening, meleth nín," he said and gave her a kiss on the cheek – to his own astonishment he did not even check if anyone was looking.

Tauriel assessed him curiously. She noticed the bows and at first it seemed as if she was going to ask about them, but then she set her mind on the more urgent subject. "So? You seem content – may I conclude that he didn't die of shock or try to strangle you?"

The prince put on a smug face. "Indeed he did not. He said, and I quote, as long as I stayed alive, he didn't give a Warg's tooth anymore about who I marry."

Tauriel arched an eyebrow and muttered, "I can figure out a way of taking that as a compliment… perhaps."

"He also said something very endearing about how he trusted you to protect our people, so he could trust you to marry his only son…" Legolas hurried to add, but Tauriel was already grinning. She flung her arms around his neck and kept him from saying more by sealing his lips with hers.

"Can you believe it took us half a millennium to come to this point?" she whispered eventually and he only nodded, trying to wrap his mind around the new beginning that was ahead of them. Thinking of that, he recalled the part of his mission that was still pending.

"Adar wants to have a private dinner with us and your mother the day after tomorrow to discuss everything. Fortunately he didn't try to make a large festivity of it."

Tauriel sighed. "Good – although the idea of having dinner with your father frightens me no less. Slaughtering Orcs with him, any time, but…"

Legolas chuckled and put his arm around her shoulder, directing her towards the gate. "I'll make sure you'll survive it. We should probably talk about some things beforehand, for example when the wedding should take place."

While walking through the gate and crossing the bridge, Tauriel pondered the question. "I suggest we try to be traditional for once in our lives and have it a year from now," she considered, making Legolas pull a disapproving face.

"Technically, we've already done two thirds of the betrothal year," he pointed out. "Have we not waited long enough?"

"Yes, but that would mean a wedding in mid-winter," the bride to be objected. "I would prefer saying my vows without chilblains. A few more months won't hurt us, will they?"

Legolas tried to think of a convincing argument to support his request, but none came to mind, so he resolved it was time to spill out the true reason for his hurry. He stopped and caught Tauriel's hand. "To be honest, there is another reason why I would like to get married as soon as possible," he started. Her curious look encouraged him to continue, "You see, when I was in Gondor, I made a few very good friends, as I have told you, and I saw how much work lay ahead of them to restore the lands in the South to their former state. There is that one region, called Ithilien…"

"The land of the moon," Tauriel commented, "I think I read about it somewhere. Isn't it said to be the fairest country of the West?"

He smiled, already sensing a tiny but realistic chance of succeeding. "Indeed it is, or used to be, more precisely. Now it is basically a wasteland, just starting to shed off the remainder of the evil that has lurked there for centuries. In that respect it can be compared to our forest, I think," he added strategically.

Tauriel, although it was obvious that she knew where the conversation was going, leaned against the ivy-covered beech tree closest to her and probed, "And how exactly does Ithilien affect the planning of our wedding, meleth nín?"

Her quirked eyebrow and the almost unnoticeable smirk in the corner of her mouth gave him the final push. "I would like to go there with a few of our people and help rebuild the land – grow trees, secure the borders, make it healthy again. Aragorn has given his approval and Faramir assured me that he would be delighted to welcome us there next summer." He had spoken quickly without breathing too much in between, and now that he had finally said it out loud, he glanced at Tauriel anxiously.

She was looking at her feet, chewing on her lower lip and twisting the hem of her tunic between her fingers. "You want to move to Gondor and become a gardener," she rephrased his statement, trying to sound cheerful but suppressing a tremble in her voice.

He felt his heart sink. "Essentially, yes," he affirmed, "although the way you say it makes it seem a bit strange."

"It is quite strange," she stated, finally looking at him again. She took a step towards him and laid her hand on his shoulder. "Do you think I haven't seen it? The way you stare into the distance sometimes, and wander about restlessly like a wild animal in a cage? I've been waiting for you to tell me that you wanted to leave Greenwood and, truth be told, I'm almost glad it is only Ithilien instead of Aman for now. You will have to tell me a bit more about the place though, if I'm supposed to live there from next summer on."

Not for the first time Legolas felt overwhelmed by a wave of astonishment and affection. Before thinking of any reply, he pulled her in a tight embrace. "I thought you would rip my head off for asking you to leave home," he mumbled, feeling her smile against his cheek.

"Oh, I was tempted," she admitted, "but it's obvious that you aren't truly happy here anymore, and if I am completely honest with myself, I'm starting to feel somewhat out of place as well." Legolas released her and gave her a surprised look, making her explain, "The change the forest is undergoing is wonderful, everything feels so alive and unburdened. But it doesn't feel like my home anymore. It's insane, I know – I should relish the idea of living in a peaceful, healthy place. Still, now that there is no evil left to fight, I don't see my purpose in being here. Besides, with my injury I'm hardly fit to be a soldier any longer, and what else would I want to be in this realm?" Her smile turned bitter.

"You could be one in Ithilien," he pointed out, "or something similar at least. Aragorn is planning to establish a training camp for his guard there and I'm sure he would be honoured to have you as an archery instructor, or whatever you would like to be."

Tauriel frowned sceptically. "Teach a bunch of Edain how to hold a bow?"

"The same bunch of Edain that overthrew the forces of Mordor, my dear," he corrected her teasingly, earning himself a nudge.

"Fine then," she conceded, "but I don't even know if I can still live up to that task. I feel so weak and clumsy sometimes, as if the Black Breath has entangled me in a net that I can't cast off."

At that, Legolas saw his chance to implement the last part of his scheme. He took the two bows off his shoulder and told her, "Actually I was looking forward to find out about that myself. You see, it hit me quite hard when you mocked my bow the other day." He faked an expression of utter hurt that managed to make her laugh. "Therefore I hereby challenge you to a shooting contest to determine once and for all whose bow is superior." He planted himself in front of her, holding up Lady Galadriel's gift in the most obnoxious proud warrior's pose he could think of.

Tauriel, reluctant but too tempted to decline, took her own weapon from him. "I may not have touched my bow since the battle, but defeating this… extraordinary device that you've got there should be well within my ability." She grinned smugly and Legolas let out an inner sigh of relief – just like in their childhood, the promise of a competition was still the best way to entice her.

"Fair warning: I shot a fell beast with this," he declared, starting to pick up pine cones from the ground.

"A what?" came the immediate question.

"A fell beast – the winged creatures the Nazgûl rode on after the Bruinen swallowed their horses," he explained. "It was… something like a very small dragon." This comparison was just bold enough to make Tauriel cross her arms and shake her head in silent condescension.

"You can ask any of my companions," Legolas pushed further. He knew he almost had her where he wanted her. "Let's be honest: If I can shoot a dragon, outdoing you won't be too much of a challenge."

"Oh, stop it already and start throwing cones! Those Gondorian guards better brace themselves for what is coming for them," she declared, snatching three arrows from the quiver on his back. He obliged her gladly – the old spark of belligerence in her eyes that he had not seen for far too long was worth the effort.

* * *

><p>Tauriel used all her willpower to stop herself from fumbling around with her dress and combing her hair with her fingers. 'You look fine, relax!' she repeated in her head. It was still half an hour too early, but nevertheless she left her chamber and started her way to the royal quarters. She was on tenterhooks before her appointment – no, invitation, she corrected herself – with the king. She crossed the courtyard, convinced that all the people she encountered were staring at her. Of course she knew it was her imagination, or maybe her nervousness did indeed show that much. Either way, she tried not to look at anyone and reach the entrance of the royal quarters as fast as possible.<p>

From the corner of her eyes she noticed that one lady walking by was truly observing her, imagination aside. She stopped and wondered for a moment – the same elleth had crossed her way several times since the day before, although she had never had any particular dealings with her. A Sinda she was, one who had come to the Woodland Realm from Lindon with the late Queen Merilissel, as far as Tauriel knew. She did not even recall the lady's name and she certainly had no idea what to make of the sudden curious looks and random encounters. However, now was not the time to worry about that.

She rushed through the corridors until she found herself in front of Legolas' chamber. On her knock, he let her in, smiling when he became aware of her agitation. "Don't worry, he won't eat you alive," he tried to reassure her. "It would be a terrible waste – you look far too lovely tonight." To Tauriel's own surprise, the flattery did not miss its purpose.

"I hope he agrees with you, once you tell him the news about Ithilien," she sighed.

Legolas, about to pick tiny pieces of tree bark off his trousers, interrupted his occupation and glanced at her critically. "Once I tell him? You won't leave that entirely to me, will you?"

"It was your idea," Tauriel remarked most accurately, but the prince would not relent so easily.

"It is your turn to tell him bad news," he objected, "I told him about our betrothal."

"How is that bad news?" Tauriel protested. "Besides, this is serious bad news and therefore your task because he's your father."

"And your father-in-law," was his immediate response. He quit cleaning his trousers and crossed his arms, looking ready to solve this dilemma with more drastic measures than words, if need be. "If you weren't my bride, I would suggest we let a duel decide," he said, grinning from one ear to the other, "but as that would be highly inappropriate, let's just flip a coin."

Tauriel tilted her head in a very unladylike fashion that did not match her elegant appearance at all. "Excuse me?"

"That's what the Edain do to simplify decisions," Legolas enlightened her. "It can't hurt us to get used to their customs."

"Do you happen to possess any coins?" Tauriel wanted to know, feeling mild interest after all. She had never truly understood the point behind the whole principle of money and its value, but Legolas was right, she would have to familiarise herself with it sooner or later if she wanted to live in Gondor.

The prince crossed the room and opened the large chest in the opposite corner. "I do believe I've still got one of Gimli's somewhere…" He started digging under piles of paper and clothes, apparently to win some time before the inevitable confession to his father, but eventually Tauriel interrupted him by walking up behind him and putting her hand on his back.

"Never mind. We're going to be husband and wife, so we may as well learn to face unpleasant tasks together. Besides, Nimiel won't be too thrilled to hear it either, so we're both going to shock a parent tonight. Shall we go?"

"Yes, let's face the dragons," he agreed with a sigh, and they embarked on their quest.

The last time Tauriel had been in the private dining room of the royal quarters, she and Legolas had been children and playing hide and seek. When Galion let them in, she wondered how small it seemed compared to her memory. The king was already there, as well as Lady Nimiel, and both of them welcomed the bride and groom to be less ceremoniously than Tauriel had feared.

When asked about her small but distinguished betrothal celebration many years later, she would not remember much of the first hour. She would mention the roast trout – a dish still most uncommon in the Woodland Realm in those days, given that the river had just started to harbour edible living beings again – plenty of wine and some small talk of little consequence. However, the king's question about the intended wedding date would always evoke crystal clear memories.

Legolas and Tauriel exchanged a mutually encouraging look and the prince started, "We have decided to count our betrothal year from its actual beginning last winter and therefore intend to hold our wedding at the next winter solstice." Although Nimiel and Thranduil exchanged surprised glances, they had no immediate objections.

Legolas peeked at Tauriel, signalling her that it was her turn to relieve him, so she took a deep breath and continued, "There is a particular reason for our decision. Given Legolas' friendly connection to the Edain of Gondor and the great effort required to repair the lands in the South, we are planning to… move to Ithilien and establish an Eldarin settlement if some of our people are willing to go with us." She had rattled off her speech just the way she had been rehearsing it in her head for the last half hour and now that it had been said, she felt relieved and scared at once. Legolas touched her hand under the table to reassure her.

Neither Thranduil nor Nimiel said anything in response. Both of them just sat straight and immobile, letting the news sink in. Eventually Nimiel was the first to gather the composure to speak. "Ithilien, you say? You want to leave the Woodland Realm and settle with the Edain before the very gates of Mordor?" Her voice held no reproach, only the utmost disbelief, which made the situation even harder to deal with for Tauriel.

"It is not that dangerous anymore," Legolas tried, but he stopped on realising that this was not the point.

Thranduil put his fork on his plate and exhaled deeply. "So this is the moment I have been dreading since you returned with the same restless look in your eyes that people carry around when the sea-longing takes them," he said quietly to his son. On feeling Legolas' fingers twitch, Tauriel tightened her grip around his hand.

Nimiel emptied her half-full glass of wine in one gulp and refilled it straight away, repeating the procedure. "Will you at least come visit us from time to time?" she then asked without any premonition. The king side-eyed her with a frown, but she only shrugged and smiled at him soothingly, as if to say that any further arguments would be pointless anyway. Eventually Thranduil yielded and forced a smile at his son.

"We will of course visit you as often as we can," Legolas uttered hesitantly, "and naturally it can only an arrangement for a limited time."

There was another short silence before the king cleared his throat and put on his business face. "Now, this revelation raises another question," he stated, all but impaling Tauriel with his look. "You, Captain, will have to find and prepare a successor before you leave."

Glad beyond words that she could speak about a practical matter, Tauriel replied, "I have already given this question some thought." Then she started explaining the advantages and disadvantages of the several candidates, occasionally supported by a comment from Legolas.

Nimiel stayed rather quiet for the rest of the evening, nodding and smiling bravely, but every time Tauriel looked at her badly hid miserable expression, she felt the urge to stick her fork into her own hand.

As the hours progressed, Legolas and Tauriel eventually took their leave. The king and the healer stayed for a last glass of wine, to wash down the news, as they told their children. For quite a while they simply sat quietly side by side, Nimiel swirling her glass and Thranduil gazing at the cold fireplace, until he looked over to her and remarked, "See? Every happy ending comes with a catch." He raised his glass in honour of his bittersweet insight.

Nimiel observed him with a mild smirk and answered, "Now that you do no longer see your son wedding my daughter as the catch, I will not complain. I do grant them their adventure. Let them see the world while they can."

"Of course they should use the time they have left on these shores," Thranduil agreed, "but I admit I would rather have liked to see my grandchildren grow up."

At that, Nimiel let out a chuckle. "Grandchildren, you say? I will not bet an apple on my daughter founding a family until I see their firstborn with my own eyes," she pointed out dryly.

"You seem not to mind them leaving as much as I do," Thranduil considered.

She breathed deeply and took his hand in hers before she said, "I suppose I have no right to mind. After all, I myself refused to go with my family to Aman. It pains me to see Tauriel and Legolas leave, but it is their life and their decision. We will see them again soon, no doubt, as well as our hypothetical grandchildren." When he did not look convinced, she added ironically, "Do not trouble yourself, my king, I will be here to mend your wounds, as always."

Thranduil fixed her with his gaze, a shadow of amusement in his eyes. "Will you indeed? I shall wait most curiously for that promise to come true." He trailed a finger along her hand that was still holding his, observing her reaction.

"By Elbereth, I meant…" Nimiel exclaimed, interrupted by her own laugh. On seeing him smirking but not letting go of her hand, she added playfully, "Well, now that I think of it, perhaps that was what I meant after all." Taking advantage of his astonishment, she rose from her chair. "I shall take counsel with my pillow and let you know. Good night, my lord."

With a half-serious curtsey she left the dining room. Thranduil's eyes rested on the closed door for a moment, before he helped himself to his final glass of wine, shaking his head in both amusement and melancholy.

* * *

><p>When Tauriel left the captain's office on a cloudy late summer's afternoon, she felt torn between relief and the utmost misery. It was decided, signed and sealed. In less than four months' time she would no longer be the Captain of the Woodland Guard. Absent-mindedly she touched the silver badge on her shoulder. How many times had she cursed it in the past centuries? Now that she would soon hand it over, it almost broke her heart. She stopped in the middle of the courtyard and breathed in and out deeply a few times. 'Pull yourself together,' she reprimanded herself, 'this was your own decision!'<p>

In her head she recited all the good reasons to be happy – her upcoming wedding, the prospect of embarking on an adventure, her family's approval of her plans, and of course the fact that she had found a worthy successor who would lead the Guard just as well as she had. Granted, Glandir had not been her first choice, but as Alation had decided to go to the Undying Lands soon and Tuven had categorically refused to become the new captain, she had chosen the young lieutenant of the Southern Border Guard. After all, she herself had succeeded under similar circumstances, despite not being the most experienced candidate. Besides, now that the Guard did not have half as much to do as in the old days, he could allow himself a mistake or two from time to time, even though she would make sure to train him well. Tauriel nodded to herself and walked on.

She had no pressing tasks waiting for her, so she was uncertain where to go. As if attracted by her hesitation like a predator drawn to the scent of blood, her omnipresent shadow, as Tauriel called it by now, emerged from the palace entrance closest to her. The mysterious lady stopped, throwing Tauriel a curious smile. By now the captain had resolved that this could impossibly be a series of coincidences. On the spur of the moment she decided to solve the riddle once and for all.

"Greetings, my lady," she addressed the woman, bowing her head.

The elleth mirrored the gesture in badly pretended surprise. "Captain – how may I help you?"

Tauriel arched an eyebrow. "Forgive me my bluntness, but I believe the question should be asked the other way round. I am under the impression that you have lately taken a vivid interest in my daily occupation and I would like to ask you for the reason."

The lady listened with an enigmatic but friendly expression. At last she replied, "I see there is no fooling you. I suspected you had noticed me by now."

This was getting more and more unsettling. Struggling not to show too much of her bewilderment, Tauriel gave back, "It is a rather essential skill for soldiers to notice strangers spying on them."

"Oh, but 'spying' sounds quite repulsive, would you not agree?" the lady objected. "To reassure you of my best intentions, let me first introduce myself – my name is Idhreniel and I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Captain Tauriel."

"The pleasure is all mine," Tauriel muttered, keeping up her stoic face. "Now, would you care to enlighten me as to why you are… seeking my presence?"

"Quite the inquisitive one, are we not?" Idhreniel remarked. "I would simply like to get acquainted with you, now that your trothplight to the prince has been announced."

"Why exactly would you care?" Tauriel asked, well aware of her bluntness but no longer in the mood to beat around the bush.

Idhreniel gave a quiet and very ladylike sigh. "Oh dear, he was right then," she whispered to herself, loud enough for Tauriel to hear, and added, "Having been a close friend to Legolas' mother, I naturally take an interest in his future spouse's character. Perhaps I can even offer you my advice and assistance in preparing yourself to be the wife of a prince. You might benefit from it, given that you will soon, in a way, represent the Woodland Realm in Gondor."

This was the moment when the scales finally fell from Tauriel's eyes. "Let me guess: The king set you up to teach me some manners," she claimed, crossing her arms and measuring Idhreniel with her best captain's stare. Unbelievable!

The other woman showed no sign of embarrassment; on the contrary, she nodded approvingly, as if facing a child who had just mastered reciting the alphabet for the first time. "He merely suggested we get to know each other. Perhaps I can share a few useful experiences with you about the various duties of a lord's wife and about marriage in general."

'Valar, have mercy!' Tauriel begged internally. "I am honoured by your and the king's concern, but I do not believe I will need such counselling, nor am I aware of the prince's wish for me to be educated about a wife's duties," she clarified, doing her best to sound peaceful.

Idhreniel, however, would not be contradicted. Misunderstanding Tauriel's meaning on purpose, she gave her an indulgent look and purred, "Rest assured that no one believes you need any help in that respect, dearest."

"Beg your pardon?" the captain spat, barely able to contain her temper in the face of such insolence. "Listen, my lady…" she started, but Idhreniel cut her short, still armed with that impeccably polite smile.

"Come now, dear Tauriel, I am under the king's orders just as you have been for most of your life. Believe me that I am no more inclined to fulfil this request of his than you are, but it cannot be helped. Let us find a quiet place and try to have a civil conversation – preferably without you glaring at me like this, for I am no Orc." Her voice was as sweet as honey but it allowed no objection.

Despite her reluctance, Tauriel felt somewhat impressed and could not help acknowledging what a fine commander-in-chief Idhreniel would have made. She decided to give her a chance, if only for the sake of humouring the king, and agreed to take a walk with her.

From the palace gate to the first crossroads the two of them did not speak at all; Tauriel because she had no idea how to start a conversation with this elleth determined to educate her, and Idhreniel most likely in order to bring about a gentle start. The trees showed the first yellow leaves and the captain found observing them to be a welcome pretence to avoid talking.

At some point, however, Idhreniel broke the silence by remarking, "I must say I am impressed by your willingness to bear with me. It shows a great deal of self-restraint to endure the kind of insolence I have thrown at you. Please forgive me, by the way, I needed to test the terrain. You behaved like a true lady." She displayed a smirk that looked far less rehearsed than the ones before.

Tauriel blinked several times, resolving to take no more offence for the sake of her nerves. "Uhm, thank you… I guess," she mumbled. "I believe ladies and soldiers must meet similar requirements in that respect."

"Well spoken," Idhreniel agreed, "I have always found the comparison of war and social situations very fitting. Both are a struggle for power and can easily turn into vile massacres, be they fought with weapons or with words. That was what I used to tell Legolas in his childhood – speaking of battles was the most reliable way of capturing his attention."

Tauriel's eyes widened. "You taught Legolas? He never mentioned you to me."

Idhreniel's smile turned into a chuckle. "Oh no, it was only in the very first years of his life that I knew him more closely and looked after him from time to time. I was Lady Merilissel's handmaiden, you see, or rather her companion. After she passed, I did not spend much time with Legolas anymore." She seemed to take a moment to remember and her face showed a flicker of regret. "It was a pity, I would have liked to stay a part of his life, but he has turned out splendidly without me, I admit. You are very lucky to have his heart, Tauriel."

"I know," the captain simply replied. After a short pause she wanted to know, "So, what exactly does the king wish us to do?" She could not refrain from rolling her eyes and was more than surprised when Idhreniel responded with a sympathetic nod.

"Well, when he summoned me after not having acknowledged my existence in centuries, he declared that his future daughter-in-law should cast a good light on the Woodland Realm in Gondor, mainly in order to ensure certain trade privileges. He mentioned that you tended to be somewhat… impetuous, and as he apparently believes me to be tenacious enough, he requested me to introduce you to the art of conversation and negotiation, perhaps refine you appearance a little…" She threw a short glance at Tauriel's fingernails that told the tale of her last trip to the forest in various shades of black and brown.

"Good luck with that," she muttered and quickly folded her hands, "my foster mother has wasted many an hour on that endeavour. Not that I don't want to behave more ladylike, but I have always found it much easier to intimidate people than to beguile them, and commanding an army has certainly reinforced that habit."

Idhreniel let out a chuckle. "But, my dear Tauriel, you do have a way with words, as I am coming to realise. I believe we shall yet make a fine lady of you, and whenever our efforts do not suffice to impress the Gondorians, you can still duel them. What do you say?"

Tauriel listened in utter astonishment, trying her best not to laugh. This elleth was the most curious creature she had met in a long time. However, there was something endearing about her that eventually made the captain concede, "Fine!"

At that, Idhreniel raised an elegant eyebrow. "Beg your pardon?"

Barely managing to disguise her laugh as a cough, Tauriel tried again, "Uhm… I am honoured to accept your offer?"

The lady smiled. "Very good, Captain, we are getting there."

* * *

><p>The captain crossed the courtyard in a rush, cursing under her breath when the snow and ice on the ground forced her to either slow down or fall flat on her face. The winter had conquered Greenwood with unusual determination, which was beautiful to watch but also most impractical. She strode on carefully, thinking about a gentle way of letting Lieutenant Glandir know that the paperwork he had recently done did not meet her requirements.<p>

Her thoughts were interrupted abruptly by a voice that had become familiar and agreeable to her ears in the last three months. "Tauriel! There you are," Idhreniel called, slithering towards her with an enormous scarf wrapped around half her body, but still shivering. "I have been looking for you all over the palace. Had we not agreed to meet and discuss the subject of your wedding gown?" she complained, gesturing a little too vividly and almost losing her balance.

Tauriel quickly grabbed her by the arm. "Sorry," she mumbled, "I forgot. Could we do that another time? I have to rearrange the complete duty roster for next month because Glandir somehow managed to count in twice as many forest guards as we have. I really don't have time to worry about clothes now…"

"And how is Glandir ever going to learn if you do his work for him?" Idhreniel interrupted her in the well-known commander-in-chief tone that Tauriel had come to dread and respect. "You need to let him learn from his own mistakes – we talked about this, remember?"

Of course Tauriel remembered and she knew Idhreniel was right, but it was downright painful to let Glandir handle the delicate ecosystem named Woodland Guard that she had built and nurtured over the last two centuries. She pondered her options for a few seconds, but in the end Idhreniel's severe yet encouraging look made her decide, "All right, I will busy myself with garments and let the Guard tumble into chaos for a month." The triumphant smile on Idhreniel's face was worth being painted.

On the way to the tailors' workplace they picked up Nimiel, who had persuaded her old friend, the head seamstress, to think of something special for Tauriel's wedding. The captain herself wondered why everyone seemed to put much more thought than her into a matter as marginal as a dress, but she figured it was probably just one more lesson she had to learn in order to become a proper lady.

When the three of them entered the sewing room, for a moment all the seamstresses interrupted their work and threw curious peeks at the prince's bride. Tauriel blushed, but at least she had learned enough from Idhreniel to refrain from barking at them, as she probably would have some weeks ago. The head seamstress greeted Nimiel with an embrace and the other two visitors with a few kind words before she armed herself with a pincushion, grabbed Tauriel's hand and dragged her across the room.

"Come, let me show you what I found for you!" she commanded and led her to an enormous wooden chest. She opened it and produced a bale of pale mint green, delicately embroidered fabric. Shoving it under Tauriel's nose, she asked eagerly, "Well, what do you think?"

Tauriel glanced back and forth between the fabric and the seamstress' hopeful face. "Uhm, it's pretty," she answered, which was her honest opinion, but apparently everyone had expected more enthusiasm from her. The seamstress exchanged a look of resignation with one of her colleagues and shook her head while she carried the fabric to a free table. Tauriel followed her hesitantly, hoping she had not offended anyone, but at an utter loss as to what she had done wrong. At least Nimiel and Idhreniel complimented the seamstress abundantly on her excellent choice.

Next came the measuring – Tauriel had to remove as many layers of her uniform as decency allowed and climb a box in the middle of the room before the seamstress started draping the fabric around her under the critical comments of the two ladies. "Will you stop stinging me?" the helpless victim protested from time to time, but the seamstress had no mercy and referred her to the countless times she had been stabbed with worse things than pins until she was finally done.

She fetched a large mirror and let Tauriel admire the result. Careful not to show too little excitement again, she started with the positive, "The colour is really… very… beautiful."

Nimiel leaned over to Idhreniel and asked with a grimace, "Am I the only one sensing a 'but' here?"

"Not at all," the other lady replied. To Tauriel she said, "What do you have against it? I daresay you have never looked so elegant in your life."

"That's the point," the bride to be clarified, "I feel like an Orc in a diamond-covered armour. Can't we keep it simple?" The three women looked at each other in silent disbelief.

"Nonsense!" the seamstress declared while leaning the mirror against the wall. "It's about time you start to make something of yourself, with those pretty green eyes and that fiery hair of yours. You've got nice skin, too – if we cover up all the scars, that is. In fact, I think you're the prettiest war chief this realm has had so far." She giggled to herself, as did Nimiel and Idhreniel, but Tauriel was not too flattered. She glanced at her dedicated audience and hoped the procedure would be over soon.

"My dear, I don't believe Legolas is going to mind if you look a little less dishevelled than usually," her mother weighed in with the best intentions.

"He has never complained so far, although he has seen me in all states of dishevelment," Tauriel pointed out, wondering since when it was any of Legolas' business what she wore.

To her bewilderment the seamstress started giggling even harder and contributed, "I bet he has," while adding more pins. Idhreniel's face froze and she blushed crimson, but Nimiel only grinned in a most unseemly fashion and shushed her friend half-heartedly.

"I meant in battle, by the Valar! Drenched in blood, covered in Orc guts – that sort of thing!" Tauriel hissed, throwing her arms in the air and being rewarded with several pins burying themselves in her skin. Suddenly she recalled why she had more male friends than female ones.

"Oh well, there's nothing shameful about it, you know," the seamstress rambled on. "Or do you think things were any different when us three old married women were young – right, you two?"

Poor Idhreniel started studying the ceiling of the sewing room with intense fascination, undoubtedly musing how on earth she had ended up in such company, whereas Nimiel put on an expression of pretended indignation and answered, "Beg your pardon? Holding hands and a kiss on the cheek on special occasions, that was all until the wedding!" A moment later she laughed. Trapped on her box, Tauriel wanted to burst into flames.

"Oh, don't you pretend you haven't long figured out all the things you can do to your betrothed without actually… well, wedding him," the seamstress claimed, tugging on Tauriel's future sleeve hem.

The captain had tried her best to endure all the comments in dignity, just as Idhreniel had taught her, but enough was enough. "Will you spare me and just go on with the measuring?" she snapped.

"All right, all right, as my lady pleases," the seamstress muttered and did as requested. Tauriel exchanged a look with her mother, who smiled soothingly, and with Idhreniel, who could not help grinning after all. She felt extremely glad that wedding preparations were something she would only have to go through once in her life.

* * *

><p>Snowflakes were dancing in the air, glittering like white gems in the moonlight and covering the forest clearing above the river with a soft blanket. In the Woodland Halls the winter solstice feast was in progress, but a small group of people had left the noisy festivity for a quiet celebration of their own.<p>

It had been a busy day and Tauriel's head was still spinning from all the impressions – in the morning she had ceded her position as Captain of the Guard to Glandir during the traditional inauguration ceremony. Thankfully there had not been a single minute to think much about that, because immediately afterwards Nimiel, Idhreniel and Tauriel's sister-in-law Eilianneth had started bustling around her and trying to mentally physically prepare her for her wedding. She had not seen Legolas most of the day, but judging from his look of exhaustion at the opening of the winter solstice feast, he had been treated in a similar manner.

At nightfall the bride and groom as well as their relatives and close friends had left the place to gather in the clearing. Tauriel and Legolas had insisted on that particular place, although the cherry tree that had once grown there and held so many memories had fallen victim to the fire.

When they reached the clearing, Tauriel's hands were frozen and she could not feel her toes. Next to her Legolas was trying to snuffle as subtly as possible, but his nose had no sense of decorum and kept on running. They acknowledged each other's unceremonious conditions in mutual sympathy. The guests gathered in a circle around them, freezing as well, so it was in everyone's best interest to move forward quickly.

Thranduil and Nimiel joined the couple in the circle and recited the traditional blessings, calling Manwë and Elbereth as witnesses. Tauriel and Legolas then took off their silver betrothal rings – which proved to be quite the challenge with their fingers frozen stiff – and returned them to each other. On that signal Idhreniel and Alation stepped forward and handed them their actual wedding rings made of gold, so that they could put them on each other's index fingers while speaking their own vows and naming Eru Ilúvatar. Lastly their parents fulfilled another tradition by gifting their child's spouse a jewel on a necklace as a symbol of entrusting their most precious possession to them.

The ceremony was already over before Tauriel's mind had fully realised what was happening. Only when Legolas took her in his arms and kissed her, it slowly started to dawn on her. She made the way back to the palace in a trance, vaguely listening to Amril, the lieutenants and Idhreniel's chatter, but it was not until she found herself back in the Hall of Crystal, seated in a chair by the fire and with a cup of hot cider in her hands, after she had received roughly a hundred good wishes, that everything truly started to sink in.

She turned to Legolas, who was sitting next to her and observing her curiously with a grin playing around his mouth. "Are you well, meleth nín?" he asked her teasingly. "You look as if you were haunted."

"Worse – I'm married!" she uttered and emptied her cup in one gulp while clasping his hand in a misplaced but all the more honest streak of panic.

Her husband – Eru, have mercy – burst out laughing and stroked her hand soothingly. Then he leaned over to her and whispered, "To be exact, not quite yet. I suggest we soon apply our long-trained skills in sneaking away. Or do you need another cup of cider first?"

"I think I can manage without if you keep me warm instead," she whispered back.

The next time one of the guests intended to congratulate the bride and groom, they were nowhere to be found.


	40. Blue Ink

Dear Nimiel,

Once again it is time for a flood of letters from your bold explorers – or foolish adventurers, as the people back home liked to call us. I hope you are well and have not died of boredom yet because your know-it-all son does not constantly question your work methods and your reckless daughter does not require you to sew her back together every other week anymore.

Speaking of Amril, I still cannot believe he and Eilianneth came with us. We are more than glad to have an excellent cook and a skilled healer among us, as you can undoubtedly imagine. Twenty-eight people and thirty horses on the road are best kept happy by good food and harbour a lot of potential for blisters, pulled muscles and most importantly sunburns and sunstrokes. For the bunch of pale-skinned shadow-dwellers that we are, the heat here in the South is quite trying and I have no idea how I will ever get used to it, especially since Legolas told me that the Gondorian summer stretched over two thirds of the year.

But I do not want to complain because currently everyone is in good health and the troop morale, as I call it, is better than the last time you heard from us. We can finally announce that we have reached our destination. It is midsummer's day and we have arrived in Ithilien.

Even though the landscape is damaged and still reeks of the evil that used to fester here, we feel welcomed by the land. It is as if the earth remembers the time when good things dwelt here and wants us to help it become a fair and wholesome place again. We have not seen much of it yet, having only arrived two weeks ago. Coming from Minas Tirith, we crossed a wide grass plain with occasional groves and several small branches of the river Anduin. The new temporary home given to us by the Edain is a pleasant little valley at the foot of a hill chain called Emyn Arnen.

On the hills the Edain have founded a new town that is growing rapidly. Lord Faramir, the ruler of Ithilien and Legolas' friend, received us very heartily and was kind enough to offer us lodging for as long as necessary, but we decided to move to "our" valley straight away instead of bothering our new neighbours. I daresay this decision endeared us to them at least a little.

So now we are camping in our tents again and doing our best to build some decent accommodations before winter comes. I am so glad three of Amril's cousins came with us. Being related to a dynasty of carpenters holds immeasurable advantages when you are trying to erect a settlement from scratch. The Edain provide us with the tools and materials we need and some of their craftsmen come here every day to help us. We would like to repay them by employing our own skills in their service, but many of them still seem to be wary of us. Who can blame them after all the years during which everything foreign meant new danger to them? We will have to give them some more time to get used to us.

Legolas has revealed an unexpected talent in carpentry and he enjoys this new occupation very much. He befriended an old Adan who used to live on the coast and build ships, and the two of them joke that Legolas should become a shipwright apprentice as soon as our cottages are finished. As for me, I must say I find myself impressed how utterly useless I am with tools other than weapons. After I almost sawed off my own arm and managed to clinch about a million nails, the others decided unanimously that I should better stay away from the building site and busy myself elsewhere.

So I took it upon myself to socialise with our neighbours by starting to work at the training camp of the Gondorian soldiers. The first time Faramir brought me there I was mildly shocked because, to phrase it politely, the premises are very different from anything I have ever known. As the war has cost many lives and resources and the borders are still not as safe as they should be, the Gondorian army is short on basically everything, but mostly on skilled soldiers. Including me, there are six instructors at the camp to take care of two hundred recruits – yes, these conditions are just as desolate as they sound. What is more, some of the recruits who come here are as young as sixteen years! They need a mother, not a commander, and they have to be taught the most basic skills. Fortunately both Faramir and the head instructor are sensible men who understand the limitations of such an arrangement and do their best to make the situation as fruitful as possible for everyone involved. It will not be an easy adjustment for me, especially since I compare everything I see to my good old Woodland Guard. To think that I used to complain when the recruits in my archery class missed two out of ten shots at moving targets in the dark – here I can thank the Valar if they do not shoot each other in plain daylight… But enough with the ranting, I brought this upon myself and I will take it as a challenge.

The most agreeable topic to talk about are undoubtedly the new acquaintances we made. During our short stay in Minas Tirith we were welcomed most kindly by King Elessar and Queen Arwen Undómiel. The lady confiscated us right away, as she was so excited to see some Eldar for a change. She is a lovely person, although a little clingy, but I believe I would be the same in her situation, all alone amongst the Edain. She showed us around the White City – I am not even going to try to describe it to you because I could impossibly do it justice. Amril will find much more suitable words in his letter, I am sure.

King Elessar was very pleased to be reunited with Legolas. They have become much closer friends than I imagined and spent a lot of time chatting to each other in a wild mixture of Sindarin and Westron.

There was another old friend of theirs in Minas Tirith: Gimli, the Dwarf of Erebor, has helped repair the damage in the city. The Dwarves forged a new iron gate, reinforced the city walls and made lots of other improvements that we had to admire over and over again. It was strange to see Gimli and Legolas so at ease in each other's company. An Elda and a Dwarf being friends – a most unusual but all the more heart-warming sight. They do quarrel a lot, to be honest, but it is never serious. I laughed so hard when Legolas acted all horrified about the body decoration Gimli got in honour of his deeds in the war. He had one thick black line for each battle he fought carved into the very skin of his face. It looks rather disturbing, there I agree with Legolas, but it is an ancient dwarven custom and Gimli could not be prouder of it, so I persuaded Legolas to pretend he did not mind. Who would have thought that I should be the one to prevent the first diplomatic incident in the history of our new settlement instead of causing it?

As for our direct neighbours, I have already mentioned what I think of Lord Faramir. He is a sociable, gentle man and surprisingly insightful for an Adan. I enjoy conversing with him, especially since his occupation before and during the war resembled mine a lot. He used to lead a special force of the Gondorian army, called the Rangers of Ithilien. From what he tells me, they were very much like the Forest Guard: They roamed the area in small units, staying hidden as best they could, and attacked the enemies lurking in their land. He does not like to brag, but last week Legolas and I went on border patrol with him and one of his former comrades, and if their ranger units operated anything like these two, I would not have liked to be a stray Orc in Ithilien.

His wife is quite the special case, to say it carefully. Lady Éowyn comes from the realm of Rohan and is the sister of its current king. Do you remember Legolas' story about the infamous Rohirric shieldmaiden who rode to battle disguised as a man and slew the Lord of the Nazgûl? As it turns out, she has put her shield aside and settled down in fair Ithilien. I was of course very curious to meet her, but at first she was downright hostile towards us. By now I understand that she was just careful because she does not feel welcome in Gondor herself. Apparently the natives treat her as a stranger, a wildling even. I cannot quite blame them, her ways are indeed very different from theirs. Anyway, it took us a few tries to warm up to each other, but once we started talking about battles, the ice was broken. In fact, I believe we shall become good neighbours, if not friends.

Tonight we will join the Edain in their celebration of midsummer's day. I do not know what to expect, but I believe it will be quite different from the summer solstice feasts of our people. On occasions like this I miss our home, and of course you, the most, but I keep telling myself that it is not a permanent separation.

However, seeing Legolas so at ease silences any doubts of mine about our adventure. This journey has done miracles for him. His restlessness and melancholy are not quite gone, but he is much more relaxed and cheerful than he was in Greenwood. I dare not think too far ahead, but I believe I may hope for some more happy years on these shores.

Although I could go on writing much longer, I shall now conclude my letter. Legolas and I send our warmest regards and wish you all the best until we hear from each other again. If you will, please greet Galion, Idhreniel, Tuven and Glandir on our behalf. May the Valar bless you.

Lots of love,

Tauriel

* * *

><p>Legolas wiped his forehead while walking slowly towards the tents. Not ten minutes ago he had washed off the sawdust from the building site in the cold water of the nearest river branch, but he was already starting to sweat again and a look at the other Eldar next to him told him that he was not the only one. However, apart from the heat he felt very content. It had been a productive day and the stable building was starting to take shape. Granted, he had dropped a hammer on his foot, providing a good laugh for the more experienced craftsmen of the group, but thanks to Amril's immediate damage control it hardly hurt anymore.<p>

The group of self-proclaimed builders reached the part of the valley where they had set up their tents. Legolas approached his and Tauriel's provisional accommodation and felt a smile conquer his face when he saw her sitting in the grass and scribbling on a piece of paper, too lost in thought to notice him. He stopped, savouring the rare moment of seeing her so calm and self-forgotten. For a moment he studied the different shades of copper shimmering in her hair under the evening sunlight and the freckles that the Gondorian summer had painted on her skin.

His wife – even now he could hardly wrap his mind around the immeasurable blessing the Valar had granted him. His thoughts wandered back to their wedding day and he remembered how he had passed the hours before the actual ceremony in a blur of both happiness and anxiety. While attending the inauguration of the new Captain of the Guard, he had been convinced that Tauriel would change her mind at the last minute and not give up her position. Then, during the day, while Thranduil had tried to catch up on a lifetime worth of fatherly advice and Galion had done his best to soothe the groom's nerves with tea and reassuring words, he had counted the minutes and hoped that Tauriel was having a better time than him – which, as he had learned later, she had not.

The ceremony itself with the frozen feet, his own running nose and his bride's suspiciously blue lips had been quite an extraordinary experience, compared to the handful of other weddings he had attended before, but it would always be one of the fondest memories of his life. He had made two mistakes while reciting the traditional vows, but he could not blame it on the cold as much as on the rather mesmerising sight of his bride. Pledging his heart and soul to her before the very eyes of the world and seeing his father welcoming her into the family had felt like coming home after a long, arduous journey. She had filled a void in his heart whose existence he had not even realised, and wherever she was, he had a home.

Legolas came closer and brushed back a strand of her hair so he could see her face. The light touch woke her from her thoughts. Before she even looked up at him, her left hand closed around his wrist with an iron grip and her right reached for a hypothetical knife that fortunately was not present. Legolas grinned and congratulated whoever had instilled these reflexes in her on their excellent work.

"Good evening to you, too, meleth nín," he teased her as soon as she realised there was no Orc to be slain.

"Sorry," she mumbled, releasing his wrist, "old habits." He sat down next to her and pulled her in his arms, being rewarded with a kiss.

"Always on the nick of time, aren't you?" he asked, pointing at the letter in her lap.

She shot him a playful glare. "The messenger leaves tomorrow morning, so I'm perfectly on time. I bet you finished the letter to your father three days ago."

"Four, and not only the one to my father," he admitted with a guilty grimace that made her laugh. After a glance at the setting sun he remarked, "The celebration should start soon, so we better get ready." He rose, but Tauriel held him back.

"Fair warning, take a deep breath before you go in there," she pointed out with a nod in direction of the tent. When he threw her a questioning look, she explained, "Do you remember the tincture Amril gave me to keep the gnats out of the tent? I tried it when I came back from the training field an hour ago. It turns out to be pretty effective, but the gnats are not the only ones scared off by its smell. I'm afraid we'll have to air out the tent a good deal before we can sleep in it again." She scratched a fresh gnat bite on her forearm.

Legolas chuckled, grateful that she had tested her brother's latest invention during his absence. As reassuring as it was to have an experienced healer present, as trying it could be to watch Amril tackling the challenges of a new climate zone in his very own way. Legolas followed Tauriel's advice and held his breath while diving into the tent to grab some clean clothes. The sharp smell of the miracle tincture bit his nose and he declared, "I guess we'll honour the tradition of our forefathers and sleep under the stars tonight."

As soon as Legolas felt presentable and Tauriel had put the finishing touch on her letter, they started their way to the Edain dwelling. On the path leading uphill they were joined by some of the other Eldar, who tried their best not to wrinkle their noses too obviously. Legolas kept an innocent grin and ignored the outrageous smell of his tunic as best he could, resolving to give Amril a piece of his mind about that tincture.

When the Edain town came in sight, he stopped Tauriel and asked, "Ready to make a good impression?"

"Wait, let me screw on my lady smile… Here we go."

"Enchanting," Legolas commented, in fact being perfectly serious. He then advised her in a grave tone, "Remember: No violent assaults!"

She nodded as gracefully as she could and gave back, "Of course not. As for you: No snide remarks on the Edain's food or music!"

"No lectures about the best ways of gutting Orcs!" he added, whereas Tauriel demanded, "No reciting of endless ancient ballads that no one has ever heard of!" Their exchange could have gone on until dawn, but it was interrupted by a waving Lady Éowyn who had spotted her favourite guests of honour and welcomed them to their first festivity away from Greenwood.

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><p>Galion took the pile of letters from the Gondorian messenger and did his best to look friendly and harmless. The poor Adan stood immobile in the middle of the courtyard and seemed rather terrified – no wonder, he had just crossed half of Arda only to end up in the Woodland Halls, which were not the most inviting place to begin with.<p>

"Come now, my dear man," Galion said in the cleanest Sindarin he could manage, "have some refreshments and rest for a while. Your service in bringing us news from our loved ones is very much appreciated and you are welcome to be our guest for as long as you wish. Your horse will be taken care of." He nodded in direction of the stable boy who had just taken charge of the Adan's mount. "And for you we will find some food and a comfortable bed." The Man only nodded, so Galion shoved him into the nearest palace entrance and stopped an elleth who came walking by with a basket full of laundry.

"Luissel! This Adan just arrived from Gondor with letters from our people. Be so kind and ready a guest chamber and a bath for him." The elleth assessed the Adan from head to toe – strangers were not a common sight in the Woodland Realm – but then she scurried off to fulfil the request.

Galion took the messenger to the kitchen, where his dishevelled appearance evoked the maternal instinct of two cooks who immediately made his well-being their personal mission. Galion did not object – this way he could get to the more interesting task straight away.

He retreated to the little room next to the kitchen where he usually did his calculations concerning the palace's stocks of food and drink. There he started sorting the pile of letters. Word would spread soon enough and people would come to him to claim the messages addressed to them, but in case any of the letters had to be delivered to one of the settlements in the forest, Galion would have to send out a rider. After a while he had three piles of letters on the table in front of him. The largest one went into a basket that would empty itself successively as soon as the palace people came to fetch their messages. The second and smallest one was destined to travel further to the forest. The third one consisted of letters that Galion would deliver to their recipients in person, either because they were of high rank or simply because he liked them well enough to do them a favour.

First he set out to the Guard's quarters and gave one pile of letters to the lieutenant of the Palace Guard, asking him to send a reliable soldier to dispatch them. When he had accomplished this part of his mission, he went looking for the king. Thranduil, however, was neither in his study nor in the throne room nor anywhere else Galion could think of, until it dawned on him that it was the day of the king's bimonthly visit to the Houses of Healing. Judging from experience, Thranduil would spend a few hours there and would probably appreciate some reading material to make the time pass. Besides, the butler also had two letters with Lady Nimiel's name on them in his pocket, so he decided he could as well deliver three in one trip.

The healing quarters had become a quiet place since there were no more spider-bitten or Orc-assaulted soldiers to be treated. Galion felt reminded of the good old times when he had brought little Legolas to there almost every month because of the young prince's affinity to dangerous endeavours. Back in the day he had cursed Legolas' boundless thirst for adventure, but now that the prince was gone, he had to admit that he missed him. All the more flattered he had felt on finding a letter addressed to himself in the pile, written in the bold, cursive handwriting that still bore a slight resemblance to the scrawly lines the prince had scribbled long ago under Galion's strict gaze.

When he stepped into the waiting room, he almost bumped into Belegor, who came rushing by at his usual quick pace, carrying a tray full of glass bottles. "Valar! Watch out!" the healer exclaimed and managed to save his bottles with a less than elegant pirouette.

Galion frowned at him. "Shouldn't you watch out while you're handling glass? Or do you have so little work around here that a few cut wounds would be a welcome distraction?" For a moment they scowled at each other, but soon both of them started grinning. "Is the king here?" Galion then wanted to know.

Belegor gave him an affirmative grumble. "Yes, Nimiel is currently butchering… I mean, treating his face. Why?"

Ignoring the tactless slip of tongue, Galion pulled the envelopes out of his pocket. "I've got letters from Gondor for both of them."

"Oh, so our adventurers are still alive?" Belegor deemed it necessary to remark. "Good to hear that." With a glance in the general direction of the treatment rooms he added, "She started the procedure about half an hour ago, so she should be done with the first part any moment and you can give the king his letter to read while the ointment is soaking in. If you dare go in there, that is." A flicker of the utmost abhorrence crossed his face and Galion was certain it was not so much caused by the king's disfigured face as by his temper. He gave him a sympathetic nod.

"I've seen his scars before, I don't mind," he stated nevertheless. "I'll wait here." He took a seat from where he could observe the door of the treatment room in question, but as Belegor did not show any intention of returning to his work, he had to ask what was wrong.

"I can't promise she'll come out at all," the healer mumbled hesitantly. "Last time she just stayed in there the entire time, talking to him." He bit his tongue and glanced over his shoulder as if expecting the mighty fist of Tulkas himself materialising out of thin air and crushing him for thinking the outrageous thought he had not even voiced.

Galion checked if anyone else was listening before he replied under his breath, "So, you see it, too? It's not just my imagination?" His quizzical look pierced Belegor's eyes until the healer's façade of propriety cracked just enough for a flood of bottled up bewilderment to be unleashed.

"Of course I see it, everyone sees it!" he hissed and almost dropped his tray for the second time. "It's even more obvious since their children are gone. Just yesterday I had to reprimand two nurses for placing bets on the outcome of this… extraordinary… situation." In a moment of wisdom he set the tray on another chair and then ran his shaking hands through his hair.

Galion felt an overwhelming sympathy – was he not suffering the exact same dilemma with regards to the king? "So, what do you think?" he asked the healer for lack of a more eloquent choice of words.

Belegor frowned. "Of the bets?"

"Not of the bloody bets, you idiot!" Galion spat, regretting his outburst the same instant.

The healer stared at him for a few seconds, then he let himself sink on the last empty chair and exhaled deeply. "Well, what am I supposed to think?" he asked. "This notion is inherently unthinkable! It is an abomination, the Valar must be horrified." He shook his head before he added slowly, "And yet… I haven't seen Nimiel smile like this in centuries and it is a shame she shouldn't be allowed a glimpse of light after all the darkness she has seen."

"True," Galion affirmed, "she deserves it, and so does the king." He scratched his chin, pondering whether to admit his own thoughts on the subject or not. In the end, given that Belegor had not been smashed by a giant fist from the sky for voicing his ideas, he decided to say it. "With all due respect, I wonder if the Valar should have a say in this. They did not seem to care when Lady Nimiel and the king lost their home and their spouses, so why should they be asked for their approval now?"

Belegor's face became blank for a second, but he regained his composure immediately. "Do you hear yourself talking?" he whispered. "Even if we leave the Valar out of the picture – which we should not – the question remains how such a… scandal would be received by the people, here and especially in the West, as soon as they sail. Besides, what on earth is supposed to happen if Lady Merilissel and Arasdaer are released from the Halls of Mandos someday? It's unnatural, Galion, I'm telling you there is no way this can come to a good ending and we should keep our noses out of it!"

"Out of what?" they were suddenly interrupted by the amused voice of Lady Nimiel who was just closing the door of the treatment room behind herself. Both the butler and the healer froze on the spot. "If there are conspiracies brewing in my healing quarters, I would like to be informed about them," Nimiel went on, grinning.

Galion looked at Belegor, but obviously there was no help to expect from him, so he started in the long-perfected tone of innocence that he employed whenever he had to convey bad news to the king, "No conspiracies at all, my lady. We were just talking about…" There his wits left him and were replaced by a nervous stutter.

Nimiel waved her hand that smelled strongly of the sharp ointment she had rubbed on the king's face. "Do not trouble yourself, dear Galion, I was only joking," she assured him. "You shall keep your secrets. What brings you here, if I may inquire? You do not look ill, thank the Valar."

"Oh, no," he muttered, "I came to deliver these letters that just arrived from Gondor." He shoved the three envelopes under her nose, grateful for the change of subject.

Nimiel took them from him and inclined her head. "Thank you so much, mellon nín. I have been counting the days since the last time we heard from them." With a glance at the envelopes she asked, "Would you like to deliver the letter to the king yourself or do you trust me with that task?"

"Do as you wish," he answered as indifferently as he could.

Nimiel walked back to the treatment room, opened the door and announced, "My lord, Galion just brought something to shorten your idle time." In the moments that followed, letter and thanks were exchanged.

The king's voice could be heard, saying teasingly, "How come you receive two and I have to content myself with one?"

"Excuse me? I raised two children, so it is only fair," Nimiel retaliated. "Now if you will excuse me, I have to check on my boiled lime blossoms."

"Give them my best regards," the king replied, followed by a snort from Nimiel. The next instant she came back out, gave Galion and Belegor another friendly but somewhat awkward look and disappeared in the adjoining corridor.

Galion let out a deep breath and glanced at his accomplice. The healer shook his head. "Mark my words: Stay out of this!" he hissed once more before he took his tray and scurried off towards the storage rooms.

The butler stayed where he was, pondering the situation. He respected Belegor's opinion and knew that he had Lady Nimiel's best interest in mind. He also saw the point of propriety and of course he had a bad feeling about watching two people close to him challenging the law of the Valar. Last but not least he held fond memories of both Lady Merilissel and Arasdaer and hated the idea of them being defrauded of something that rightfully belonged to them. But again, no one knew for certain if the tales were true and the souls of the dead would really be reembodied someday, let alone if they would return as the same people they had been in their former lives. As for society's opinion, he was fairly certain that after all they had been through, neither the king nor Lady Nimiel would give much importance to what other people thought of them.

So it happened that Galion, loyal companion to King Thranduil and long-standing friend to Lady Nimiel, decided to give fate a careful little nudge in the right direction.

* * *

><p>Nimiel entered the cave of the hot spring on the lowest level of the palace with mixed expectations. On the one hand she was curious what the king might want to discuss with her that could not possibly wait until the next morning, on the other hand she felt a little overwhelmed by the urgent summons that had forced her to burden her fellow healers with a whole pile of additional work. The king was standing by the water with his back to her, holding the obligatory glass of wine in his hand. The sound of the closing door made him turn around.<p>

"Good evening, my lady," he welcomed her. "Please, make yourself at home." He gestured to the table and the chairs on his right and Nimiel accepted the invitation, took a seat and helped herself to a glass of wine as well.

"Thank you, my lord," she replied. "May I ask why I am here?"

He sat down opposite her and stated nonchalantly, "I took the liberty of relocating this meeting from my study to this slightly more agreeable place. If we have to discuss business at such an hour, we might as well make it as comfortable as possible. So, what is it that you wish to speak about?"

"Me?" Nimiel asked in astonishment. "I was under the impression that you summoned me to address an urgent matter of your own."

Thranduil's eyebrows shot up. "Not at all. I was told by Galion that it was you who wished to see me."

"He told me the same," the lady pointed out dryly and added with as much benevolence as she could, "there must have been a misunderstanding."

She could watch the king's expression change from astonishment to amusement to annoyance. "Certainly it was," he growled, not sounding convinced at all. "I shall make sure Galion will never commit such negligence again." With that he rose abruptly, but Nimiel held him back.

"No, you will not! Leave the poor fellow alone, for goodness' sake!"

The king glanced at her in surprise. "Beg your pardon? I had to cancel a meeting with the Captain of the Guard for this… nonsense." Nimiel gave him a reproachful look for his choice of words. "I apologise, my dear Lady Nimiel," he corrected himself and sat back down. "I did not wish to imply that spending time in your presence was nonsensical."

"I hope so," she replied, suppressing a smirk. In fact, the whole situation was nothing if not amusing.

Thranduil observed her from across the table and soon his frown softened. "Oh well, perhaps you are right. Now that we have thrown our respective plans overboard anyway, there is no use in getting upset. We might as well make the best of it. Although I do not particularly appreciate my butler tricking me into an evening of idleness, however agreeable the company might be."

"I daresay something like this had to be expected sooner or later," Nimiel pointed out with an awkward smile. "We both know the sharp eyes and ears and the quick tongue of these ancient halls."

"Not so much the halls themselves as their indiscreet inhabitants, who seem to have time to concern themselves with other people's private business," the king added, sounding more amused than annoyed. After a short pause he added, "You think old Galion got tired of our pathetic display?"

Nimiel could only affirm, "It must be rather painful to watch." Both of them smirked, but neither said anything more.

The king emptied his glass and poured himself another one. He got up, walked to the edge of the basin and stood there for a while, gazing at the bubbling water, before he turned back to her and asked with surprising straightforwardness, "Very well, Galion lured us here to talk about our issues, so that is what I shall do. Tell me, are we going anywhere or will we keep asking ourselves forever what could have happened if we had made different decisions in the past?" His tone and his look were friendly, but still his words hit Nimiel with unexpected force.

She blinked and took a moment to ponder her answer, during which he continued watching her calmly. At last she rose from her chair and joined him by the water. "I have no answer," was the only honest thing for her to say. She heard Thranduil exhaling deeply and saw a shadow of disappointment crossing his face that incited her to clarify, "I would most definitely like us to have a second chance. Yet, even if we overlook the minor difficulty that Eru Ilúvatar himself established a law against this, the fact remains that somewhere in this world or another I have a husband and you have a wife. For all we know, they might have been released from the Halls of Mandos and be waiting for us to disembark a ship in Alqualondë. What would you say to Merilissel if she welcomed you to Aman and suddenly I was there with you?"

Thranduil's lips tightened for the split of a second. He avoided her eyes and it seemed as if he was imagining the scene she had described. Suddenly his face hardened. "Honestly, I would ask her what else she expected me to do after she left me and our child behind so readily."

Of all things he could have said, Nimiel would not have expected this. How could he? She stared at him in bewilderment and took a step away from him before she reproached him, "What are you talking about? She was ill. You know exactly how much the growing evil in the forest affected her and how having Legolas drained her of the last bit of resilience she had left. How can you say she abandoned the two of you readily? In case you have forgotten, I was the one who cared for her, I remember how she wasted away over decades…"

"Then you might also remember the countless brews and tinctures you made for her to strengthen her body and lift her spirits," Thranduil interjected. He looked at her with his eyebrows raised as if it was an actual question, so she did him the favour of nodding. He continued, "I bet you did not know that one day she stopped taking them. She told me she did not want to bear this misery any longer, and believe it or not, I did not begrudge her that right because I blamed myself for her suffering. After all, I was the one who had taken her away from her home and brought her here." His grip around his glass tightened and he went on quietly, "For Legolas' sake, however, I resented her, and in a way I still do."

He took a sip of wine while Nimiel's mind digested this new perspective on Lady Merilissel's story that she had never heard or considered before. Thranduil added more softly, "She chose to leave this world and so I believe I may choose freely what to do with the rest of the time given to me."

"That is… understandable," Nimiel eventually admitted. "However, Arasdaer did not leave on his own account and he certainly did not renounce the bond to me or his son." She fought the tears that wanted to fill her eyes when a hundred contradictory feelings flooded her consciousness.

On noticing her struggle, Thranduil's hand twitched, but he resisted the urge to touch her. Instead he inquired carefully, "Assuming the dead did return to this world and were still the same people with the same memories – would you truly wish to be reunited with Arasdaer?"

Out of a reflex Nimiel nodded. "I think so."

"You think so?" he repeated, barely managing to contain the sarcasm in his tone. "Forgive me my bluntness, but that does not sound particularly enthusiastic."

With his inquisitive gaze resting on her and his painfully accurate words resounding in her head, Nimiel felt her defences breaking. There was no way of holding back the tears any longer and an ugly sob escaped her. Before she could even start being embarrassed, the words broke out of her, "Thank you so much for pointing that out! It is hard enough for me without you putting your finger right into the wound, you know. I loved him, I did – but it is true, I cannot imagine being with him again. Too much has happened, I have changed… So, no, as much as it horrifies me, I have to say that I do not wish to be reunited with him." Hearing herself speak these words scared her, but at the same time she felt relieved. She looked at Thranduil, who was simply watching her in silence, and added more to herself than to him, "I must sound like the most horrible, undeserving wife in the history of Arda. Perhaps I am."

He shook his head and this time he did not refrain from touching her hand. "Now you are exaggerating…" he tried to soothe her, but she cut him short, suddenly determined to spill out everything she had wanted to say to him for many years.

"Am I? My heart belonged to Arasdaer without question, but… even then it never forgot that it had once belonged to another."

Her words did not fail to turn the king's expression into a blank stare. As he did not show any inclination to answer, she felt the need to explain, "When I came to Greenwood I certainly did not expect you to be still unmarried, let alone willing to take me back. I was not unhappy at all when I met Merilissel, in fact I was glad you had found such a lovely wife. But as fine and reasonable as it all seemed in my head – during those first three, four hundred years I wanted to rip out my heart every time I saw you." Against all logic she let out a short laugh that was choked by the lump in her throat.

Thranduil let go of her hand and wiped his forehead in a completely atypical gesture of confusion. He took a controlled breath before he gave back, "Do you think I did not want to rip out mine when you appeared in Greenwood out of nowhere after two thousand years without a life sign? I was certain you had sailed centuries before. If only I had known in time…"

"Then what?" Nimiel interrupted him. "Would you have asked me to marry you a second time and hoped your father would not talk you out of it again?" It sounded more condescending than intended.

Thranduil had regained his composure and defended himself, "We were not even two hundred years old when that happened." Even in the dim light of the lanterns she could see him blush and a wave of warmth overcame her.

"I know," she mumbled, softening her previous remark with a smile. It was enough to convey her forgiveness.

He assessed her thoughtfully once more, but then he too smiled at her ever so slightly. "Now we are as old as the hills but apparently not any wiser. I feel like a despicable husband, you feel like an undeserving wife and however we go on from now, it will cause grief to someone." He stated it like a simple fact and as if to emphasise his cluelessness, he sought council in another sip of wine.

He was right, Nimiel considered. All the years that had passed and all the hardship they had endured had not put them above such seemingly trivial matters of the heart and there was no solution to their dilemma that would satisfy everyone. She pondered that thought for a moment while contemplating the water, then she let her eyes wander back to Thranduil. He was not trying to persuade her, he was not soothing her concerns with pretty words, he was not pretending to be content with the situation himself. Maybe that was what brought her to her decision, or maybe it was the simple fact that for the first time in six and a half millennia she was tired of putting other people's concerns before her own.

"Thranduil," she addressed him quietly, closing the distance between them, "why can we not pretend there was no one but us to worry about for a change and see where it takes us? Aman is far away and for now we are still here. Let us admit that we love each other and take another chance. I know this does not solve our dilemma, but still I refuse to let our decisions from six thousand years ago determine our future."

He took his time to process her words that obviously surprised him greatly. After a while she touched his hand, waking him from his immobility. "Are you saying that you, Lady Nimiel of Doriath, are willing to break the rules of propriety as well as the law of the Valar after all?" he asked, not looking wholly convinced yet but all the more amused at her sudden resolve.

She gave him the most confident nod she could manage. "Oddly enough I am," she affirmed. "What about you?"

"Me?" it came back, accompanied by a teasing smirk. "Well, if you absolutely insist, I may find myself persuaded to…" He did not come any further until Nimiel started chuckling. "What?" he asked, but instead of a reply she took the glass out of his hand with gentle determination and set it on the floor.

"Negotiations are concluded, my lord," she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him into a kiss. His lips tasted of wine and his hands on her back made her feel warm and safe.

When they broke apart, he smiled at her and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "Oh well, you, my lady, are full of the most delightful surprises," he pointed out. "I wonder how long it will take Galion to find out that his scheme was successful."

"That will depend largely on our discretion," Nimiel mused.

"Not too long then, I am afraid," Thranduil resolved and underlined his statement by taking her in his arms again.


	41. Grey Eyes

Tauriel leaned against the fence of the training field, observing the twenty Edain boys as they struggled their way through the obstacle course she had set up for them. It had originally been intended as a warm-up, but it had turned out to be more of a challenge than expected, so now she made the recruits do one run at the end of each archery training session and was pleased to see a small but recognisable improvement every day.

When the last recruit had crossed the wobbly tree trunk, climbed over the construction of latters and boxes and crawled through the tunnel made of straw bales, always combined with targets they had to shoot, the boys lined up in front of their instructor, breathing heavily and looking as if they had just returned from a quest to Mordor. Tauriel approached them and as her eyes wandered along the line, she could see them adjusting their postures one by one, trying to look as unimpressed and confident as possible. She bit back a grin – during their first year of training they were still so adorably eager to prove themselves.

"Well done, all of you!" she addressed them and was surprised that she actually meant it. A collective wave of relief went through the group, although they had learned by now to keep their straight positions. Tauriel walked along the line and came to a stand in front of a tall boy with curly hair and the first scarce shade of a beard. She could not remember most of their names, so she went by their physical attributes to distinguish them. "Remind me of your name once more," she said to the boy.

"Felanir," he answered with a slightly terrified expression that gave Tauriel the immediate urge to comfort the poor thing, but she resisted.

Instead she wondered more to herself than to him, "Didn't I have another Felanir here a while ago?"

The boy nodded and gulped before he answered, "That was my uncle. He's with the Rangers now."

"Your uncle?" Tauriel repeated. "Valar, you people grow up incredibly fast," she muttered and shook her head. When she noticed the recruits' suppressed smirks, she cleared her throat and continued in her best commander's voice, "Anyway, Felanir, you had by far the best aim today and I am very pleased with your progress. Only next time, when one of your comrades falls in front of you in the obstacle course, you may not want to step on him but help him up. In the wild, when you are facing… let's say a pack of Wargs, you don't want to be left behind to die, do you?"

"No," he admitted while his cheeks turned crimson.

"You are a unit and as such you are expected to work together!" Tauriel reminded all of them. "Now, with that in mind, you are dismissed for today. Pluck your arrows out of the targets and put your bows away properly this time or the commander will bark at me again!"

The recruits fulfilled her order, suddenly a lot more agile than a few minutes ago, but of course the prospect of lunch never failed to revitalise them. Tauriel grinned while she watched them leave the field. Sometimes she felt like a governess rather than an instructor during the training sessions with the first year recruits, but she got her share of variation when working with the specialised units and the regular soldiers who came to the camp for their obligatory annual corrective training.

For today her duty was finished. When she was about to leave the field, she became aware of four people lurking at the fence. On recognising Faramir and his three children, she smiled and waved and they came towards her. Mírimë, already a young lady and the very image of her mother, gave her a hearty embrace but failed to hide her interest in the leaving recruits. Twelve-year-old Elboron, his father's heir and eager apprentice warrior, eyed the obstacle course curiously while he greeted Tauriel. Little Anwion was the most excited to see her and flung his arms around her legs immediately.

"That was impressive," the lord pointed out with a nod at the training field. "Your protégés are making remarkable progress."

"What? They're horrible," Tauriel objected. "They are certainly improving, but…" She rolled her eyes.

Faramir waved his hand and answered, "You are too hard on them. Remember, these are Gondorian farmer's boys, not century-old elven warriors. Your reputation as the most demanding instructor this army has ever seen honours you and I'm very pleased that the archers trained in Ithilien are the most sought after of all Gondor, but don't put too much pressure on them. We want reliable soldiers, not nervous wrecks."

"All right, fine," Tauriel conceded, managing to free her legs from Anwion's iron grip and lifting the little boy up instead. He smiled like a proud king on his throne.

Faramir inquired carefully, "What was that about Beregond barking at you?"

"Nothing of consequence," Tauriel soothed his concern, "he just complained about the untidy state of the armoury and as there was no one else present, he blamed me. Don't worry, we get along well – except for our cultural differences. To him I will always be 'the Elf', but that's fine with me." She was telling the truth, but it did not seem to convince Faramir, so she distracted him, "What's this little family outing about?"

At that his expression became tense. "The baby is on its way," he explained and Tauriel winced.

"So soon? Wasn't there another month to go?"

"There was," he affirmed, "but our youngest seems to be in an awful hurry." The frown on his face deepened.

Tauriel felt a lump in her throat. Éowyn's fourth pregnancy had come as surprise, mostly to the parents themselves. Apparently forty-three years was quite late for an adaneth to have a child and Éowyn had not been too well the entire time.

"What are you doing here then?" Tauriel asked Faramir. "Shouldn't you be with her?"

He made a sour grimace and explained, "The midwife kicked me out of my own house. But she's right – I'm of no help standing in everyone's way and going half insane every time I hear a sound from the chamber. I can't concentrate on my work anyway, so I decided to take the children out for a bit." Elboron and Mírimë, who understood the gravity of the situation, exchanged a concerned look, whereas little Anwion fortunately did not grasp the reason for his family's worry.

"I meant shouldn't you be at Éowyn's side?" Tauriel clarified. "I'm sure she would appreciate some moral support."

Faramir's jaw almost dropped. "Excuse me? That would be the most inappropriate thing ever heard of," he protested. "A husband isn't supposed to see his wife giving birth."

Tauriel stared at him awkwardly for a few seconds before she muttered, "Uhm, well, for our people it would be unthinkable the other way. No ellon would willingly leave his wife alone during childbirth and miss his child's first moments in this world."

"You Eldar are strange people," he stated in a matter-of-fact voice that almost made Tauriel laugh. After a pause he admitted, "To be sure, I would like to be near her, but…"

"But me no buts!" Tauriel cut him short. "It's your family and no one but you and Éowyn decide what is appropriate. March yourself back home and go to your wife if that's what you want. And if that midwife eyeballs you, tell her the curse of the Elves will hit her."

"This could actually work with that superstitious old hag," he mumbled, but on seeing the shocked faces of his children he added, "You didn't hear that! It's bad enough you pick up all those Rohirric curses from your mother." Mírimë, Elboron and Anwion nodded dutifully and did their best to suppress their grins.

Faramir still looked doubtful about Tauriel's suggestion, so she gestured in direction of the children and considered, "The four of us could certainly find a nice way to make the next few hours pass." An opportunity to spend time with their elven friends was always welcomed by the children.

Faramir took a deep breath as if to reassure himself before making the most inappropriate decision of his lifetime. "Fine, I'll go back," he finally let himself be persuaded. He reminded his offspring, "You will be on your best behaviour."

Tauriel assessed them thoroughly and asked, "You remember the rules, right?" She obtained three more or less serious nods. "What are they?"

"Don't touch the weapons," Mírimë recited.

"Don't drown in the river," Elboron contributed.

"And most importantly?" Tauriel wanted to know from Anwion.

"Don't annoy Tauriel," he stated in the most earnest tone his toddler's voice could produce. Even his father smirked.

"That's settled then," Tauriel concluded. To Faramir she said, "Should I notify Amril to come over and offer his assistance, just in case? He did well with Lady Arwen's children and our neighbour's little girl. I know Éowyn isn't too trusting of Eldarin medicine, but…"

"It would be greatly appreciated," Faramir agreed to her surprise, "even if it's only to make me a tranquiliser." He let out a nervous cough and threw a look over his shoulder in direction of his home.

Tauriel thought it best not to detain him any longer. With the children in tow she took the path downhill to the valley. They crossed the horse meadow first – why in the Valar's name the Edain had insisted on putting a fence around it was beyond Tauriel – and entered the Eldarin dwelling. Many people were out at this time of the day, working in the communal orchard on the sunniest side of the hills, others were busying themselves with their respective tasks around the village.

Tauriel stopped at Amril and Eilianneth's cottage and informed her brother about the emergency. He promised to look into it as soon as he was done with his current patient, namely his eldest cousin who was sitting there with his leg stretched out and a nail sticking out of his foot. Unlike the boys, Tauriel did not feel inclined to observe the bloody spectacle longer than necessary, so she quickly dragged the children along to her own home.

As expected, she found Legolas as she had left him in the morning, buried in an ocean of paper. For him the harvest season was the busiest time of the year. Ithilien, being the proverbial breadbasket of Gondor, provided most of the realm's supplies of crop, fruit, vegetables and wood. As the Eldar had their own methods of agriculture that did not always meet the approval of the Edain, either of them worked their own plantations. The surplus that they did not consume themselves was sold to Minas Tirith. Legolas was in charge of organising the commerce – with the minor obstacle that the Eldar refused to accept money as payment, whereas the Edain did not want to engage in the Woodelves' traditional 'a favour for a favour' economy. So it was Legolas' task to calculate the monetary value of the traded goods and weigh it up to the value of whatever the Eldar needed from the Edain. Then he had to travel to Minas Tirith and negotiate with the Gondorians until he obtained an acceptable deal. When he returned from these annual journeys, he usually ingested a bottle of Dorwinion and went to sleep for twelve hours straight. Tauriel did not blame him.

All the more delighted he was when she brought a little distraction in the form of the children. He listened with great interest to every piece of news they deemed important enough to tell him. Of course the matter of their new sibling was the most urgent.

"Papa called the midwife an old hag," Elboron pointed out gravely. "If he curses in front of us, things must be serious."

Legolas exchanged a look with Tauriel, who nodded discreetly. "Well, we will not make it any better by worrying," he said to the boy. "The Eldar say that a new child's best welcome in this world is a cheerful family, because then it will also become a happy person. So, shall we go out and see how we can cheer you up?" Tauriel could not help but smile at her husband's adorable effort to comfort the children by spontaneously making up a new piece of elven lore.

Invented or not, it worked: A little while later Elboron and Legolas were engaged in a make-believe swordfight – using real blades instead of wooden ones, as Tauriel noticed. She hoped none of the children would tell their parents about this. As for Mírimë, although her mother had not failed to teach her the basics of swordplay, she was too much of a lady to join the fight. Instead she insisted on braiding Tauriel's hair because, as she declared, it was too pretty to be so dishevelled all the time. Meanwhile little Anwion made the acquaintance of the white stray cat that had taken a liking to the two Eldar and become their permanent lodger. It lay draped picturesquely on the front porch and opened one eye on hearing the boy approach. He petted it gently, earning himself a glare of graceful feline indignation.

"Be careful, she's mean," Tauriel advised him in order to prevent scratches and tears, but it was already too late. With two long red marks on his forearm he came running to her, curling up in her lap. "Uhm, it's fine, it won't hurt anymore in a minute," she mumbled and stroked his back, astonished that her presence actually seemed to comfort him. Legolas gave her his 'I told you so' grin.

"You're good with children," Mírimë pointed out. "Say, why don't you two have any of your own?"

Tauriel turned to her and raised an eyebrow, but before she could think of an answer, Legolas weighed in teasingly between two sword strikes, "Yes, Tauriel, why is that?"

"Go kiss an Orc!" she gave back and laughed, remembering to say it in Silvan because the two older children were already quite fluent in Sindarin. To Mírimë she said, "I don't know, it's not that we never want any." At that Legolas pretended astonishment. "You see, when you have the choice and time is not an issue, you always think it's not the right moment yet."

"I think you would be great parents," Mírimë stated. With that the topic was closed for her and she continued braiding. Tauriel, however, looked down at Anwion on her lap and at Legolas and Elboron laughing together and not for the first time she asked herself what 'right moment' she was exactly waiting for.

* * *

><p>It was past sunset when Amril knocked on the door and brought the news everyone had been hoping for. "It's a boy and both he and his mother are well, according to the circumstances. Of course he's very fragile and will need lots of care in the next few weeks, but I'm confident he'll be fine."<p>

Now nothing would stop the children from going home and meeting their new brother. Tauriel and Legolas accompanied them, for one thing to bring them home safely, for another to deliver the gift the Eldarin community had made for the newborn, as they had done for each of Faramir and Éowyn's children before.

When they arrived, the three siblings were the first to enter the chamber, whereas Legolas and Tauriel waited outside for a while to give the family some privacy. At some point the midwife came out and assessed them with an almost hostile glare. While leaving, she muttered something about 'too many bloody Elves here' under her breath. Tauriel suspected that Amril's obscure methods, whatever he might have done, would cause her nightmares for the next few weeks.

Soon Faramir invited the two visitors in. Having seen him earlier that day, Tauriel noticed his relief immediately. Éowyn was lying in bed, looking exhausted but happy, and in her arms there was a bundle of seemingly nothing but blankets that made thin noises.

"Oh, who would have thought that the youngest Lord of Emyn Arnen would already hold his first audience?" she said when she became aware of the Eldar.

Tauriel walked to the bedside and took her friend's hand. "What are you doing, by the Valar? Giving everyone the shock of the century…" she whispered while trying to catch a glimpse of the newborn. A tiny pink fist was all she saw for now.

"My son didn't want to miss the harvest festival, I guess," Éowyn mused and pulled the blankets aside just enough to reveal the child's face. Having seen his siblings at the same age, Tauriel was not surprised that the little boy resembled a chicken hatchling more than an Adan, but his parents did not seem to notice or care.

Legolas looked at him as well and asked, "What are you going to name him?"

"Melmion," came the answer from Éowyn and with a side glance at her husband she added, "because it absolutely has to be Quenya again, right, my dear?"

Faramir replied stoically, "It is tradition that the lords of Gondor name their children in Quenya."

"We have honoured that tradition three times," Éowyn pointed out with an affectionate look at her older children. "Why don't we name our last one in Rohirric?"

"Because I'd really like to be able to pronounce my son's name," Faramir stated dryly, failing to hide his smirk.

Éowyn made an attempt to laugh, but apparently it hurt her, so she simply conceded, "Fair enough, Melmion it is."

Now that Legolas knew what he had asked for, he set the pot with the sapling of a birch tree that he had brought on the windowsill. Tauriel joined him, pulled a little bottle out of her pocket and emptied its contents into the flowerpot, whereas Legolas murmured the ancient blessing, "May this tree grow strong and healthy, steadfast and wise under the light of the sun, the moon and the stars, and may your path, Melmion Faramirion, be guided and blessed by the Valar and Eru Ilúvatar, the Maker of the World."

"Thank you," Faramir said and inclined his head, "I will plant it in the garden tomorrow, next to the other three." Even Éowyn smiled, although she did not believe in the power of elven rituals.

As for Tauriel, she could not quite take her eyes off the wrinkled handful of life in her friend's arm. On noticing it Éowyn teased her, "So, when is your turn? I'm curious what an Elf child is like."

"Did Amril give you too much of his 'special' painkiller?" Tauriel gave back. She grinned while saying it and changed the topic right away, but somehow a new thought found its way into a hidden corner of her mind and made itself at home there.

It accompanied her when she went home that evening and on her way to work the next day. It stayed with her for the following weeks and months, and one afternoon in spring, when she and Legolas were standing on the promontory of Minas Tirith, having caught a rare moment to themselves during a visit to the king and queen, she took his hand and said to him, "I've been thinking… How about we try our luck with parenthood?"

* * *

><p>A year had passed since Tauriel had given Legolas the surprise of his life by suggesting they should have a child. Remembering that spring day in the White City, she let out a sigh and cursed under her breath – ironically of course, but sometimes being an expectant mother proved to be more tiring than battling spiders and Orcs. Truth be told, the aspiring parents had not foreseen to have their wish fulfilled so quickly, but the Valar seemed to be very much in favour of their decision. Even so much that about three months into her pregnancy, when Tauriel had started sensing more than the mere vague presence of new life inside her, she had almost died of shock on understanding that she would have twins. The prospect of being responsible for one living being had already scared her enough – two was definitely pushing the limits. She thanked the Valar every waking moment for such blessing, yet she could not deny that she was a bit terrified. Of course Legolas and all the others close to her did their best to reassure her, but it was still a trying time for her, especially since she, who had always been used to being strong and resilient, felt the physical and emotional weakness that affected many elven mothers-to-be all the more acutely.<p>

Right now, for example, was one of the moments when she would gladly exchange the backache and the enforced idleness for a pair of blades and a few beasts to slay. But it could not be helped, she resolved and picked up the broom again. The cottage had better be clean for the visitor who was supposed to arrive later that day.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud knock at the door. It flung open and in stomped Gimli the Dwarf, who had been staying in Ithilien for a few days after a diplomatic journey to Minas Tirith. He was followed by Legolas, whose eyes immediately wandered from Tauriel's disapproving glance to the muddy footprints both of them were leaving on the floor.

"Don't worry, it's not that I have anything better to do," she grumbled while watching the Dwarf crossing the room.

Legolas gave her an apologetic look and a kiss on the cheek before he unwrapped the bundle he was carrying and held a skinned and gutted rabbit under her nose. "Look what Gimli caught," he stated. "How about some nice hot soup on such a rainy day?"

One look at the animal was enough to make Tauriel retch. "Valar!" she coughed and covered her mouth and nose. The irony of the situation dawned on her the next moment, given that she had seen all sorts of gruesome massacres before and not cared at all. She gave Legolas a weak grin and to Gimli, who was inspecting the scarce cooking equipment they possessed, she said, "What exactly are you doing? I would prefer no more dwarven cooking experiments in our kitchen. Last time you almost set our house on fire."

Gimli sized her up with a long stare. "Come now, my lass, you're exaggerating. It was but one tiny scorch on the ceiling." He looked up at the large black spot above the hearth and waved his hand.

Tauriel glanced at Legolas for help. "Shouldn't he be gone already?" she asked him in Sindarin. "He said he was going to leave this morning. The travelling party is due any minute and I really don't need him here when she arrives."

Legolas put the rabbit on the kitchen table and tried to explain, "Yes, he was on his way, but then he found that old rabbit trap in Faramir's barn and… you know." He shrugged awkwardly.

"Can you please get him to leave?" Tauriel replied. "I like him, you know that, but two visitors – and these two of all people – are too stressful for my taste." As if to emphasise her statement, she threw her hands in the air.

Legolas came towards her and put his arm around her shoulder. "You're creating the stress yourself. Calm down, you know all this tension isn't good for the children," he tried to reason with her, although he already knew his attempt was doomed from the start.

"Don't patronise me!" she spat at him. "I'm so sick of everyone telling me what I should and shouldn't do."

Legolas barely managed not to roll his eyes. He just opened his mouth to say more when an infernal metallic rumbling sliced through his words. The heads of both Eldar turned to Gimli – and to the cast-iron frying pan he had just dropped on the floor.

Tauriel caught hold of the table and breathed in an out deeply while forcing her face to look calm, but Legolas could clearly see that the volcano was going to erupt any second. And indeed the next moment she shouted, "Legolas, get your Dwarf out of our kitchen or I swear to Elbereth I'm going to gut him like that rabbit!"

Even though she had spoken Sindarin, Gimli understood the general direction the conversation had taken. He put down the fork he was holding, snatched his prey off the table and scurried to the door, muttering into his beard, "All right, all right, I'm leaving. No need to get violent."

Tauriel, feeling oddly relieved all of a sudden, turned to him and managed her sweetest smile. "Well then, have a safe journey and once again thank you for your visit and for bringing those beautiful toy animals," she purred. For some reason her nicety seemed to scare the Dwarf a lot more than her outburst. He gave her a terrified nod and allowed Legolas to shove him through the door. As all Dwarves she had ever met were completely unable to speak quietly, even while whispering, Tauriel could hear him asking Legolas, "Is it me or is she a little… tense?"

Her husband gave back in a hushed voice, "Don't even ask – mood swings and frustration are a lethal combination. She doesn't say so, but she's bored to death now that she doesn't train Aragorn's soldiers anymore. On the bright side, there's only one more month to go. But then again, after that we probably won't get much sleep for another year or so. Oh, but don't get me wrong, founding a family is… great."

The last thing Tauriel heard from them was muffled laughter and footsteps moving away from the house. She pulled out a chair and sat down at the table, resting her head in her hands and staring into the thin air in bewilderment. "It's official, I'm going insane," she said aloud, although there was no one listening but the cat on the windowsill, who expressed her opinion by yawning and curling up into a furry ball. "What do you know? You probably don't have any children, do you?" Tauriel muttered to the animal. Then she got up, took a rag and a bucket and started eliminating the mud stains on the floor.

A while later Legolas came back, this time not without taking off his dirty shoes at the door. Tauriel rewarded him with a grateful smile and walked up to him. "I'm sorry for being such a pest lately," she admitted. "Please don't take it personally."

He chuckled and put his arms around her. "I don't blame you. Granted, sometimes I do want to yell back at you, but after all, we both wanted this and now we're in it together." He sounded a little pained but sincere enough to make her pull him into a kiss.

"Only you aren't turning into a mentally unstable Mûmak," she considered.

First Legolas gave her an appraising once-over, but then he grinned and murmured in her ear, "I daresay you are by far the loveliest mentally unstable Mûmak that has ever stomped this earth." He still had time to plant a light kiss on her neck before she burst out laughing, wriggled out of his embrace, grabbed the rag out of the bucket and flung it in his direction. It missed and landed on the floor, whereas Legolas raised an eyebrow and commented smugly, "Not good enough, Captain."

Tauriel's laugh turned into a frown while she crossed the room and picked up the rag. "See? My arrows used to pierce the eyes of moving spiders in the dark and now I can't even hit my husband with a dirty cloth." She slammed her missile back into the bucket and sat down. "I know you've heard me complain far too often, but I can't help feeling weak and downright useless sometimes."

With an indulgent and somewhat tired smile – he had indeed heard this more than once – Legolas sat down next to her and objected, "You are fulfilling the most meaningful task imaginable right now, you're helping two new lives come into this world. Besides, in a month's time you won't feel useless anymore – because you won't have time for it."

"Probably," she conceded. "Thank you for being so patient with me."

"It's good practice," he replied. "If these two turn out anything like us when we were little, patience might be the key to preserving our sanity."

Tauriel nodded. "Wise words! Nimiel might tell us a few tricks though." She made a clueless face and added after a short pause, "I don't even know why I'm so nervous about her visit. I'm happy to see her, of course, but at the same time it's strange having our little life here judged by someone from home."

"I'm actually relieved to have her here, especially since you refused to let Amril assist you during the delivery," Legolas pointed out.

"He's my brother!" Tauriel exclaimed. "I would even have preferred some Edain midwife over him. For Arwen and Éowyn it might have been fine, but the thought of letting my own brother…" She stopped, supposedly imagining the rest of her statement graphically. Then she blinked twice and shook her head. "Just… no! With Nimiel it's not much better, but at least she's an elleth and she has already seen most other parts of my body torn to shreds."

"Tauriel, please!" Legolas interjected, an equally horrified look on his face as she had displayed before.

Her apology for her gory vision of childbirth was prevented by another knock at the door. Amril and Eilianneth peeked inside. "The travellers have been spotted," Eilianneth informed them, "we're going to the crossroads. Are you coming with us?" Legolas and Tauriel rose simultaneously, grabbed their rain cloaks and the four of them started their way through the mud.

Arriving at the crossroads they joined two more Eldar who had come to welcome a relative. They were forced to stand there a good while until the company of eight riders even came in sight. Finally two members of the group separated from the rest and directed their horses towards the little welcoming committee, whereas the others rode on uphill to the Edain town. The first one to slide off the horse in a not so elegant fashion was a soaking wet Lady Nimiel, looking exhausted but smiling from one ear to the other.

"I thought Ithilien was a dry country," she said before she burst out laughing and attacked the person standing closest to her – which happened to be Tauriel – with a hug. "My dear, it is so nice to see you," she mumbled while seemingly squeezing every bit of air out of her daughter's lungs. "By the Valar, you are quite pregnant!"

"Indeed, that's why you insisted on coming here," Tauriel rasped. "Now would you let me breathe again? Please?"

Nimiel released her reluctantly and moved on to subject Amril to the same treatment of motherly affection before it was Eilianneth and Legolas' turn. In the meantime Tauriel addressed the soldier who had arrived as her mother's escort and had already been greeted by his relatives. "Welcome to Ithilien, Terchanar! It's a pleasure to see a familiar face from the good old times. Put you hand down, for Eru's sake, you don't need to salute to me!"

"Sorry, Cap…, uhm, Tauriel," he replied hesitantly and both of them started grinning.

"Come now, everyone, let's get out of the rain," Legolas suggested. No one needed further invitation, so they first took the horses to the stable and then wandered off to their respective accommodations.

The family got together at Tauriel and Legolas' house, and when Nimiel was tolerably dry again, they assembled around the kitchen table with a carafe of Eilianneth's highly praised lemon balm lemonade to catch up on two decades of missed chatting, gossiping and simply being together as an almost complete family.

* * *

><p>"Meleth nín, I believe we might have to change our plans for today," Tauriel pointed out calmly – only from the corner of his eyes Legolas noticed her fingernails digging into her palm.<p>

It had been a peaceful morning so far – in the Eldarin calendar it was the last day of the old year, a day for rest and remembrance, not for work, so Tauriel and Legolas had enjoyed the rare luxury of not having to get up right at dawn. They had taken their time drinking a cup of tea and having some breakfast together, and planned to spend the rest of the day helping to prepare this evening's feast.

He stopped lacing his shoes and assessed her. "Indeed? Why is that?"

Tauriel gave him a very forced smile and replied, "Please don't panic, but… I think I just went into labour." Thus began the most memorable turn of the year of Legolas' lifetime.

As Tauriel felt the need to move and also threatened to suffocate him in his sleep if he even considered leaving her side – which was frightening and heart-warming at the same time – he was commissioned by Nimiel to take his wife for a walk. They rounded the valley several times and even walked up and down the hill twice before Tauriel decided to go home around noon. The following hours involved many encouraging words from Nimiel, some muffled Silvan curses, although fewer than expected, a lot of hand-holding and more pain imagined by Legolas than felt – or admitted – by Tauriel.

At one point in the late afternoon an attentive passerby might have heard the thin wail of the little boy who had just seen the light of day, followed some time later by his sister's equally displeased comment. Legolas passed the first hour of his fatherhood in a state of shock and amazement, unable to believe that these two tiny yet utterly perfect living beings were his own flesh and blood and would be his to love and protect from that moment on. As for Tauriel, she hardly dared to breathe while holding her son and then her daughter for the first time, seemingly afraid to break them, but she soon got accustomed to it and started debating whose heritage had prevailed.

"Judging by the hair, this one is our earthy little Silvan," she pointed out, caressing the coppery brown fluff on her son's head, "and we've also got a beautiful silver-haired Sindarin princess. If only they weren't so sleepy – I didn't even see their eyes properly."

"Grey, both of them," Legolas stated, enchanted by his daughter's determination to grasp his finger. With a smug grin he deemed it necessary to add, "I win." Tauriel gave him a mocking glare that would have put the flaming gaze of Gothmog himself to shame, but she kept silent. "What, no protest?" Legolas teased her.

"No," she replied, "I'm trying to behave like a responsible mother, because what I would like to say is certainly not for the ears of children."

He bent down and kissed her temple, not minding the sweaty strands of hair. "I love you," he whispered, "all three of you."

"So do I," Tauriel gave back.

From the opposite side of the room Nimiel watched the young family in quiet bliss.

* * *

><p>Looking around the room, Tauriel found herself impressed how many people her little cottage could hold – all the more astonishing that this was only the female half of the guests. Almost the entire population of the Eldarin village had come to attend the name-giving ceremony for the twins, which was traditionally held one month after their birth and marked their official welcome into the community. Of course Faramir and Éowyn were there as well and even the King and Queen of Gondor had crossed the plain between Minas Tirith and Emyn Arnen to meet their newest neighbours. Tauriel felt blessed that so many people wanted to wish her children well, but she was also glad that she had Nimiel and Eilianneth's help managing the large crowd of guests, given that four weeks after the delivery it was still hard to summon the energy to get up in the morning and come through the busy day of a young mother.<p>

Her musings were interrupted by the determined voice of Éowyn. "Elf children are strange," she declared and fixed the baby girl in her arms with a tender but investigative look.

Tauriel leaned over her daughter, gave her a kiss and whispered, "Don't listen to her, you aren't strange." Then she asked her friend with a puzzled smile, "Why would you say that?"

"Because they don't seem like newborns to me," the adaneth pointed out. "Look at the way she is observing the room, as if she could actually make sense of what she sees. At one month of age all my children did was sleep, eat and cry." As if to reinforce her statement, she glanced at Mírimë, who did not pay the slightest attention because she had been allowed to hold the baby boy for a while and was captivated by this task.

Tauriel shrugged. "That's how ours spend most of their days, too. The only Edain children I have ever met were a lot older and the last elfling I knew before them was Amril's daughter six hundred years ago, so don't ask me."

"I think they are the sweetest creatures I have seen in a thousand years, except for my own, of course," Lady Arwen weighed in, brushing her finger lightly over the boy's tiny hand. Éowyn scowled at her, but Tauriel knew it was probably just out of habit – for some reason the two ladies had never been too fond of each other. "I hope you will let me visit them every now and then," Arwen added with a hint of melancholy in her voice, "mine are growing up so fast. I guess it is natural, given their Edain heritage. But I feel as though I had no time with them at all when they were little."

"My condolences," Éowyn muttered under her breath. Tauriel shot her a glare, making her aware that she had not spoken quietly enough to let her remark go unheard by Elves.

Luckily the awkward moment ended with Eilianneth demanding everyone's attention. "My ladies, we are ready to begin!" she proclaimed. Tauriel joined her mother and sister-in-law by the hearth. Together they heaved the large stockpot that Eilianneth had brought over from her own kitchen on the table. The bubbling brew in it filled the entire house with a pleasant herbal scent.

Now everyone started fiddling in their pockets or unwrapping small bundles of leaves, seeds, berries, tree bark or other materials. Each woman had also brought a cup – mainly because Legolas and Tauriel's household was not equipped to provide enough for everyone – which they filled with whatever material they had.

From her place by the window Éowyn observed the other women, trying her best not to look too startled, whereas her daughter watched the spectacle in utter fascination. Although Mírimë's puzzled stare looked quite amusing, Lady Arwen decided to enlighten her about the current happenings.

"The things we put into the cups all have a symbolic meaning and serve as good wishes for the children," she explained in a hushed voice and showed Mírimë the contents of her cup. "People will choose something that is close to their own values. I brought lily petals – purity of the heart."

Mírimë nodded and pointed out, "Tauriel has thyme leaves and Lady Nimiel brought yarrow." She obviously did not want to appear blatantly curious, but Arwen grasped the hint.

"Courage and health – what else would it be?" she whispered, smiling at the girl.

"Yes, I could have guessed that," Mírimë admitted. "What about the soup?"

"It contains the elements that we associate with each of the Valar," Arwen replied. "Water, earth, ash, rock, various plants… But I cannot list them all because the lore I know is quite different from the one of the Woodland Realm. Now look, it's beginning."

Mírimë watched attentively as Tauriel was the first to fill her cup with a scoop of the aromatic brew and stepped aside to let Nimiel have her turn next. Soon everyone held a steaming cup in their hands and the group left the house. Mírimë still held the boy in her arms, who had fallen asleep despite the crowd of strangers around him, and Éowyn followed with the girl. Of course Tauriel was always but one step away, not letting her children out of sight.

"What happens now?" Mírimë whispered in Arwen's ear when the group reached the meadow behind the cottage, where the male half of the guests was assembled.

"The men have dug two holes in the ground and we pour our cups out into the earth," the lady explained. "Then Legolas will plant two saplings and we will hear which names he has chosen for the children."

"Is it only him who chooses them?" Mírimë asked in confusion.

Arwen gave her an indulgent smile and answered patiently, "Why, of course, for now, although the names they receive from their father are more a matter of practicality than a meaningful reflection of their characters. It is the mother who has to come up with something more personal later in their lives." That was too much strangeness for poor Mírimë to take in, so she kept silent and cradled the still nameless little Elf in her arms, hoping that Legolas had given the matter enough thought.

The Eldar started singing a melody that made goose bumps appear on Mírimë's arms. One by one the cups were emptied into the holes and at last Legolas set two tree saplings, an oak and a beech, into the earth. Mírimë was so captivated by the song and the ceremony that she gave a small start when Tauriel tugged on her sleeve and asked cheekily, "May I borrow my son? I promise you will get him back in a minute."

"Sure," she mumbled and blushed, feeling the amused glances of thirty Elves on her when she handed the child over to his mother. Legolas took the girl from Éowyn, not without gracefully ignoring his wife's muttered complaint about his dirty hands.

They stood beside the saplings, mother and son by the oak, father and daughter by the beech, and forth came the King of Gondor. He threw a questioning look at Legolas and obtained a nod in response, so he started reciting in Sindarin, "May these trees grow strong and healthy, steadfast and wise under the light of the sun, the moon and the stars, and may your paths, Thandir Legolasion and Gilieth Legolasiel, be guided and blessed by the Valar and Eru Ilúvatar, the Maker of the World."


	42. Green Woods

At the crossroads between their village and the Edain town, five Eldar were waiting to embark on a journey. The luggage was packed, the horses were ready and the temporary goodbyes were said – well, almost. They were still waiting for one more member of their travelling party to take her leave of her mortal friends. Amril sat on the ground in the shadow of his horse and threw an annoyed glance at the sun while wiping his forehead. Eilianneth fanned herself with her hands but stopped on realising that it only made her warmer. Legolas, however, was too occupied to mind the heat.

"Ada, why can't I ride a horse of my own?" his son asked as innocently as he could. "I won't fall off, I promise."

"I know you won't," the battle-tested father replied, "but I wouldn't trust you as far as I can throw you if you were on a horse by yourself."

Thandir pouted, but he could not deny the truth in his father's words, so he let the matter rest. "What is this?" he wanted to know instead, tugging on a longish, leather-wrapped bundle attached to the saddle of his mother's horse.

Legolas was there in the blink of an eye and grabbed the boy's hand. "Careful! These are Nana's daggers. She sharpened them last night."

Next to them in the grass, Gilieth giggled. She had made a wreath of daisies and dandelions that was now adorning one ear of Legolas' horse. The poor creature shook its head in confusion. Thandir shot his sister a look of pure disbelief before he freed the horse of the unwanted jewellery and put it on his own head, proclaiming, "Behold the King of Ithilien!"

For a moment it looked as if Gilieth was going to try and reconquer the flower wreath, but she decided otherwise and only gave her brother an exhausted sigh. It reminded Legolas so much of Tauriel that he could not hold back a chuckle.

Gilieth got up and approached him. "How long will we ride until we reach Greenwood? Will we be there by nightfall?" she asked.

Legolas smiled and shook his head. "No, it is much further, we will ride for several weeks. Do you remember the map I showed you? We have to go all the way up north, until we see the Lonely Mountain."

Her face reflected the effort she was making to imagine such a distance. "Is it nice there?" she wondered eventually.

Legolas hesitated a moment and pondered the best answer, then he decided to phrase it diplomatically. "I myself haven't seen it in a long time, as you know. It's very different from Ithilien, the forest is thick and very old and full of wondrous hidden places, like in the stories Aunt Eilianneth reads to you."

"Maybe we'll meet some giant spiders," Thandir weighed in smugly. "If we do, I'll shoot them." He imitated the movements of an archer, and not badly at all, as his father noted with a hint of pride. Then he set the flower crown on Gilieth's head – only he had added a few burrs to it.

"I would be surprised if there were still any spiders in Greenwood," Legolas stated, trying not to grin at his son's disappointed face and his daughter's expression of relief.

Gilieth, still unaware of the burrs in her hair, poked Thandir in the ribs and pointed out in a matter of fact voice, "You'll have to behave yourself in Greenwood, or else Grandfather will throw you in his dungeons for a hundred years."

"Where do you get such ideas?" Legolas interjected. As if the prospect of meeting Thranduil again not just as a son but as a father in his own right was not making him nervous enough without having to eliminate prejudices of this kind.

Gilieth shrugged. "Gimli told me that Grandfather once imprisoned his relatives."

"First of all, they were trespassing…" Legolas started before he realised that he was justifying the actions of the King of the Woodland Realm to a forty-year-old. He cleared his throat. "You can't always take Gimli's stories literally."

Any further musings about the dangers of their destination were rendered mute by the arrival of the travelling party's last member. Tauriel hurried down the path from the Edain town and apologised, "Sorry it took so long. Éowyn is such a chatterbox. Let's go!" She grinned a little too cheerfully, helped Gilieth mount the horse and took her place behind her. Legolas let Thandir climb on his own now flower-free horse and mounted, as did Amril and Eilianneth, and the group started their journey at last.

For the first half hour Tauriel was very quiet and only reacted with an occasional 'yes' or a nod to the children's chatter. Once brother and sister were engaged in a quarrel about the correct names of some places they would pass along the way, Legolas took the opportunity and addressed her quietly, "Is something the matter with Éowyn?"

Tauriel glanced at him hesitantly before she sighed and answered, "She's getting so old. It scares me. Her mind is still as sharp as always, thank the Valar, but walking gets more and more difficult for her. She doesn't want anyone's help, of course." With another sigh she shook her head.

Legolas reached over to touch her hand. "She's eighty-four, isn't she? That's older than most of her people get." He did not speak the logical implication out loud.

"Certainly, it's natural," Tauriel replied, looking straight ahead. "It makes perfect sense in my head, but to my heart it seems so wrong. I have never had to watch a friend of mine undergo this… process. I can't wrap my mind around the thought that she won't be around anymore."

"I know," Legolas gave back, not only thinking of Éowyn. Unlike in his youth, now he understood why many of his people chose not to befriend mortals. Tauriel squeezed his hand, undoubtedly guessing his thoughts. They exchanged a quiet look of mutual understanding.

* * *

><p>It was the first time during the entire journey – probably even the first time in the four decades of their lives – that both Thandir and Gilieth had been silent for so long, observing their surroundings in obvious discomfort. Tauriel could not deny that she felt a little overwhelmed herself. Having been away from Greenwood for half a century, it was almost unreal to be back on the narrow paths beneath the ancient trees, listening to the whispering and rustling in the shadows and feeling the forest's countless eyes on her. Although the air of evil was gone, Greenwood remained a wondrous place with an unmistakable consciousness of its own.<p>

Tauriel wrapped her arms around her son more firmly, which made him wince in the saddle in front of her. "This place is scary!" he declared under his breath and shot a wary glance at an oak at the side of the path that seemed to stretch out its branches towards the travellers.

"It won't harm us," Tauriel replied and could not resist adding, "I hope…"

An ironic glare from Legolas on the horse next to her was the immediate reprimand. Gilieth had been holding on to his hand for dear life for the last hour and was now eyeing her mother sceptically.

"I'm just joking, silly," she corrected herself, "we have nothing to fear." Picking the most inappropriate moment possible, her horse got scared of a few sparrows fluttering out of a juniper tree.

"I'm not too comfortable either," Eilianneth contributed. "It's so quiet… and not quiet at the same time. I feel watched. I'm not used to that anymore." She sought Amril's look for reassurance.

He nodded and frowned. "It reminds me of the time we went out to pick herbs and suddenly the soldier who had accompanied us was gone," he mused. "We heard some disturbing noises in the shadows and then he came back, drenched in bl-"

"Will you stop scaring the children!" Legolas barked. "There is nothing dangerous here anymore, it's just an old forest." Tauriel could see that he was getting seriously annoyed, so she refrained from any further comment.

However, as they rode on, she could not help peeking over her shoulder every now and then. Something was moving close to them if her old senses had not entirely left her. After a while Legolas noticed it, too. They exchanged a look and checked the positions of their bows as discreetly as they could. A sudden rustling and an undefinable low growl in the bushes not thirty feet from them made the Eldar stop their horses.

"What was that?" Eilianneth whispered to Amril.

Thandir looked at his father and asked, "Didn't you say there was nothing to be afraid of? Why is Nana…"

"Ssh!" Tauriel hissed sharply enough to make everyone fall silent. She gave the reins to an astonished Thandir and slid off the horse, drawing her bow. Legolas followed her example, although Gilieth was not too thrilled to be left alone on the horse. She jumped down as well and climbed on the saddle behind her aunt.

Legolas and Tauriel advanced slowly in direction of the noises. Another growl, followed by a quick movement in the shadows, made them freeze. Legolas nodded at Tauriel, who quickly drew an arrow and released it into the coppice, the result being a not so beastlike scream and a series of curses.

"Havens of Aman! Which one of you blasted sons of Dwarves was that? I said no sharp missiles, by Elbereth!" it came from between the juniper trees. The next moment a figure all clad in brown and grey and grotesquely adorned with pieces of ragged fur emerged, holding the arrow in one hand and covering his thigh with the other. Tauriel and Legolas needed a second look to recognise the bizarre creature as a Woodland guard – and one they knew very well.

"Tuven?" Tauriel stuttered, eyes wide with disbelief. "Is that you? Sorry, I didn't mean to shoot you."

The lieutenant blinked, then he let out a deep breath and rolled his eyes. "Oh, of course. What better way than a graze wound to know that the captain is back?" He gave Tauriel a broad grin and to Legolas he added, "Welcome, Your Highness."

"Thank you," Legolas replied, assessing him from head to toe. "Do you mind telling us what you are doing?"

Tuven made a sour face and scratched his neck under the countless layers of rags. "What does it look like? We're simulating a Troll hunt."

"And you are… the Troll, I assume," Legolas observed, hardly able to suppress a laugh. Tauriel was less considerate and broke out chuckling.

"Yes, I lost a duel against Draugwen and playing the Troll was the wager," Tuven explained even more sourly than before. He greeted Amril and Eilianneth with a short nod and gave the children an awkward grin. "Anyway, welcome home!" he changed the subject. "You are eagerly expected – only we didn't think you would arrive so early. Just now I thought you were one of my units. I can't see and hear properly in this ridiculous attire, or else I would have… you know." He shrugged, tugging on his costume.

Tauriel only shook her head and muttered, "I leave you people alone for a mere sixty years… Don't you have anything serious to do?" She snatched her arrow from him and shoved him towards Amril, who had already dismounted and was digging in his saddle bag for some first aid supplies.

"Not really, no. The forest is quiet lately, except for an occasional stray Goblin once or twice a year. Stupid games like this are our best way of keeping the soldiers in form," Tuven stated and sat down on the ground, so Amril could have a look at his wound.

The healer glared at Tauriel for a moment and grumbled something about old behaviour patterns resurfacing, but then he turned to Gilieth, who was observing his every movement, and asked her, "My esteemed colleague, what would you use to staunch light bleeding?"

His little apprentice furrowed her brow and thought hard for a moment. "Vervain!" she then exclaimed, her entire face beaming with pride. Tauriel smiled to herself. Amril nodded and sent his eager student to fetch the plant in question from his bag.

In the meantime Thandir approached Tuven and asked, "Are you a soldier? Because, honestly, you don't look like one – the ones in Gondor have cleaner uniforms and carry swords instead of sticks."

'When he's right, he's right,' Tauriel thought. Legolas laid his hand on his son's shoulder to remind him of his manners, but Tuven only shrugged and answered, "Right you are, my boy, things are a little different here in the Woodland Realm." After a few seconds he added, "You come after your mother, don't you?" Tauriel pretended not to hear him.

A while later Amril had bandaged the harmless wound. Tauriel wished Tuven a successful Troll hunt and earned a fairly convincing grunt in response, before the travellers set out on the last stage of their journey.

* * *

><p>The difference between memory and observation could not have been bigger when the visitors entered the Woodland Halls. The courtyard that used to be such a busy place was all but deserted, except for one soldier at the gate and old Galion who came hurrying towards them with many words and many smiles. At first Tauriel did not even understand what he was saying because she was too busy taking in the sight of her home that she had not seen in six decades. Every stone was still familiar and in a way she felt as if she had never been away at all and was simply waking up from a vivid dream.<p>

"Welcome, welcome!" Galion exclaimed. "It is such a joy to see you! Forgive the unceremonious greetings, we were expecting you tomorrow at the earliest and are shamefully unprepared. I don't even know where the king is, he's probably working and..." Forgetting his sense of propriety, he gave Legolas a spontaneous hug, which was gratefully received.

While Galion proceeded to welcome Amril and Eilianneth in a less exuberant but still hearty fashion, Tauriel observed the children's first reaction to their family's home. Thandir was fascinated by the armoured palace guard at the gate, whereas Gilieth tried to catch glimpses of the palace's insides by peeking through the various open doors. Their contemplations were interrupted when Galion demanded to be introduced to them. One look was enough for Tauriel to know that it was love at first sight on both sides.

Eventually the butler remembered his duty and invited the guests inside, announcing that he would inform the king of their coming. Amril and Eilianneth suddenly found a hundred excuses to skive off and Tauriel almost envied them. The children clung to their parents' hands, apparently intimidated by the dark corridors and the prospect of meeting the infamous grandfather they had heard so much about.

"What if he doesn't like us?" Gilieth whispered to Tauriel. "He's a king, he could really throw us in the dungeons, couldn't he?"

"Of course not, my dear!" she gave back. "He will be enchanted by you. And he doesn't throw people in the dungeons so easily – I know, I used to annoy him more than anyone else." The emphatic nod from her husband was not the kind of support Tauriel had hoped for, but she overlooked it gracefully.

Shoving the visitors into the king's study, Galion announced that he would go and find Thranduil as well as Lady Nimiel. When he was gone, the little family stood immobile and looked around. The room had not changed in the slightest, there were still piles of paper and books lying around everywhere and burnt down candles were accumulating next to old quills, and yet everything seemed to be in its perfect place. Tauriel remembered the many occasions when she had come here to convey bad news or receive a lecture about this or that. The more pleasant memories came a moment later – sneaking into the study for a game of hide and seek with Legolas in their childhood, explaining new ideas to the king during her first years as a captain, discussing, even arguing with him on an equal footing when no one else was listening. She smiled to herself and looked at Legolas, who seemed to have very similar thoughts. Eventually she took his hand, which woke him from his state of trance.

"I haven't seen him in sixty years," he whispered, as if he had just come to this insight. Tauriel squeezed his fingers to offer him some encouragement.

The children's curiosity soon defeated their reserve towards the unknown place and they started exploring the room, taking particular interest in the tapestries depicting events in the Woodland Realm's history. Gilieth immediately pelted Legolas with questions about the pictures she could not identify and he answered them patiently, while Tauriel followed Thandir on his expedition to the enormous fireplace with its many delicate carvings.

Only a few minutes passed until the door was opened again and Galion scurried back inside. "I'm sorry, Lady Nimiel seems to be in the middle of a treatment, but the king should be here any… Oh, here he comes now." He stepped aside and bowed his head.

The first thought that crossed Tauriel's mind on seeing Thranduil was that the Elvenking of Greenwood would probably remain exactly the same he had always been through all the ages the world might yet see. He stood in the doorframe, tall and solid as the rock surrounding him, and let his eyes wander between his four guests without so much of a blink. Legolas returned his stare for what felt like an eternity, until he finally allowed himself to smile and said, "Adar, it is good to see you."

The king nodded and for a moment he seemed unsure what to so, but then he approached Legolas and they embraced each other. "It is a joy to see you as well, ion nín," he eventually replied. Drawing back a little, he eyed his son from head to toe and remarked, "You have changed."

"Whereas you haven't," Legolas gave back with a nearly invisible smirk. In her corner by the fireplace, Tauriel made an effort not to roll her eyes at so much royal Sindarin awkwardness.

She was almost grateful that the greeting Thranduil offered her only consisted of a friendly nod, given that he had spotted the children and was naturally far more interested in them. She bowed her head in return and gave Thandir an encouraging nudge. He exchanged a doubtful look with his sister, but in the end he accepted his fate as the courageous warrior obliged to face unknown dangers first, and approached his grandfather.

"Adar, this is your grandson Thandir," Legolas stated and added to the boy under his breath, "What do you say when being introduced to someone?"

Thandir, who had been staring at Thranduil like a rabbit at a wolf, blinked and uttered, "Mae govannen. It is a pleasure to meet you." He bowed his head and raised his hand to his heart.

The king observed the little spectacle with an expression of amusement and affection. He mirrored the gesture gravely, as if greeting a fellow monarch, and replied, "I am delighted to meet you in person, my dear Thandir, and I am impressed by your manners. Of course it is not surprising after the excellent letter writing skills you have displayed many times." Thandir kept silent, but he allowed a tiny smile to curve his lips.

The next moment an event occurred that could only be witnessed once or twice a decade. Gilieth, provoked by the entirely undeserved praise her brother was receiving, crossed her arms and declared, "I helped him write those! He doesn't even know how to spell 'Eryn Lasgalen'."

Both Tauriel and Legolas almost gasped on witnessing their shy, well-bred princess give vent to her wounded pride, while Thandir completely forgot the presence of his grandfather and protested, "Do too! E-R-Y-N…"

Thranduil, summoning all his royal composure, bit back a chuckle and laid a soothing hand on Thandir's shoulder. "Rest assured that no one doubts your ability. And to you, dear Gilieth, I offer my sincerest apologies for my ignorance."

"It is of no consequence," she recited and grinned. Tauriel did not even want to know where she might have picked up this line.

When he had welcomed Gilieth properly as well, Thranduil gave both children a warm smile and to Legolas and Tauriel he remarked, "I must say the resemblance to their parents is striking in every respect."

Before Tauriel could decide if that was a compliment or not, there was a knock at the door and Galion let Lady Nimiel enter. "Sorry, on my way here I came across Amril and Eilianneth, and before that I had to lance a purulent boil," she deemed it necessary to explain. On seeing the disgusted faces of everyone in the room, she refrained from further details and started her round of greetings, beginning with her daughter and son-in-law. On seeing her grandchildren, however, she transformed from the most renowned healer east of the Misty Mountains to the prototype of all dedicated grandmothers in Arda. "By the Valar, what a handsome young man and a pretty little lady you two have become!" she addressed them. "I was so curious to see you again after all this time." She gave both of them a hug, which was received with far less reserve than the king's greeting, and both elflings immediately started chatting to her.

Legolas and Tauriel exchanged a look of pretended regret, given that they were completely ignored by now. "Mission accomplished," Legolas mumbled in his wife's ear.

Tauriel whispered back, "I guess we'll have more time off parental duty than we wish."

* * *

><p>Tauriel awoke to the vague noise of muffled giggling and the closing chamber door. The absence of sunlight still made her wonder whether it was already morning, but judging by the footsteps and voices outside, it was time to get up. Next to her Legolas was still breathing deeply and evenly, but as she started stirring under the blanket, he came to his senses as well. She turned her head and smiled on seeing him look around before he remembered where he was – even after a month his old home still seemed to confuse him.<p>

"Good morning," she whispered and received a friendly grumble in response before he closed his eyes again, willingly or not. She poked him and demanded, "No, don't go back to sleep! I just noticed two certain elflings in nightshirts sneak out of our room, giggling – you know that's always a bad sign."

Legolas let out a sigh. "You're right, it might be our only chance to see the two little imps today, before either your mother, my father, Galion or basically anyone else from the palace abducts them again. I feel silly saying it, but I miss them."

"So do I," Tauriel agreed. "It's a little hurtful that everyone else seems to be more interesting than boring old Ada and Nana."

Legolas smiled and kissed her. "Says the girl who never came home before nightfall if she could possibly help it," he teased her. "Don't worry, just wait for the first sore knee or bad dream and we'll be in high demand again." He took a deep breath and rose from his pillow with some reluctance.

Tauriel nodded. "I guess you're ri-… Ow!" The sudden sting in her scalp woke her up for good. Legolas froze in the middle of his movement and stared at her in shock, only to discover the reason for her outcry: A strand of both his hair and hers had mysteriously been braided together over night.

"I don't believe it… Whose blasted idea was it again to have children?" Tauriel muttered. "Thandir!" she shouted, probably loud enough for the whole palace to hear her.

In the meantime Legolas fought against the laughing fit of his life and when he could breathe again he pointed out, "That wasn't Thandir. He may have been the mastermind behind it, but look at this perfectly accurate braid, this is the work of a young lady who dresses the hair of her doll every day."

Tauriel threw a glance at the braid. "Fair point – Gilieth!" she corrected herself even more deafeningly than before. As hard as she tried to look annoyed, she was already grinning.

Half a minute passed before the door was opened and two guilty faces peeked inside. Legolas gave the children the severest look he could manage and held up the braid. "Any ideas how this might have happened?" he asked them.

Gilieth nudged her brother, whispering something about 'your turn'. He displayed an innocent face and mused, "Uhm… ghosts?"

Tauriel and Legolas exchanged a look of both exhaustion and amusement. "Come here, you little ghosts!" the plagued mother demanded and it took no more than a few seconds until the twins climbed their parents' bed and collected their well-earned payment in the form of a thorough share of cuddles.

"Can I pick herbs with Grandmother and Uncle Amril today?" Gilieth requested eventually while freeing her parents' hair.

Thandir seized the moment and joined in, "Can I go riding with Grandfather?"

Tauriel frowned. "Herbs – yes. But riding? Where exactly are you planning to ride?"

Apparently this was the question Thandir had wanted to avoid. He started chewing on his lip and mumbled, "He said something about visiting some villages…"

"He wants to take you on his control trip to the settlements? But that will take till nightfall! When a Balrog boils my tea!" Tauriel exclaimed. A second later she realised that she sounded exactly like Nimiel – and the worst part was that she did not even mind.

"But, Nana, he promised he wouldn't let anything happen to me!" Thandir bargained. "I've wanted to see the forest for so long, I mean really see it. Please!"

Tauriel looked at Legolas for support, but he seemed to agree with his father. "Why not? He took me on such trips at that age, and there were worse creatures out and about. Thandir is a good rider and if he has to he can hit a mark with an arrow." The last part was a benevolent exaggeration, but the boy nodded eagerly.

With a sigh of utter disbelief Tauriel looked back and forth between her husband and her son. She knew she had already lost the argument. "Fine! But don't come running to me if you get lost or eaten by the Woodmen!" she grumbled, trying her hardest to sound annoyed rather than worried.

As soon as the children had received their permissions, they did not want to waste another minute and ran off to get dressed. The parents stayed behind and could not help feeling a little redundant.

"We could go to the forest as well," Legolas then suggested.

"I thought you wanted to finish your negotiations with the smiths about the tools for Ithilien?" she objected. "Besides, the captain allowed me to join him on his inspection of the Palace Guard…"

Legolas smirked and interrupted her, "The smiths will be happy not to be bothered by me for once, and so will the captain, I assure you." He stressed the second part of his statement, which made Tauriel scowl at him, but he only laughed. "Let's take a few hours off and revisit the old times. I bet you still can't beat me in a race."

Tauriel stared at him as if he had lost his mind. "Excuse me? Aren't we a little too old for this?"

Legolas gave her a grin of pure mischief. "Too old or too slow?" Of course that was what won her over.

* * *

><p>No one apart from Legolas and Tauriel would ever know how their last forest race had turned out, nor would anyone ever find out why that century-old tradition came to an end that day. Only a few people saw their unseemly return, but it would make for a good piece of palace gossip nevertheless.<p>

"Let's not take the gate," Tauriel suggested and stopped Legolas before he stepped out of the coppice and onto the path leading to the palace entrance. She eyed their muddy, leaf-covered garments. "It may be best to get inside unseen and clean up this mess first. We do not wish to alarm anyone, do we?"

"Don't you think they're already alarmed enough?" he gave back. "It's nearly midnight. I'm surprised they didn't send out a search party." He rolled his eyes and scratched a bit of dried mud off his sleeve. "Just to be clear," he then added, "this story stays between the two of us, doesn't it?"

"Absolutely!" Tauriel affirmed. "We can't tell anyone that the Prince of Greenwood and the former Captain of the Guard… got lost!" Speaking of such disgrace made her grimace.

Legolas nodded and frowned. "In our defence, the forest does look different. My main landmarks used to be the different types of parasitic vegetation and the distribution of cobwebs."

"Most paths are overgrown, too," Tauriel pointed out. "Anyway, let's go! Should we take the passage through the cellar?"

He agreed, and so they walked around the palace until they reached the open watergate. There were two watchmen on the battlement above it, but even though the forest had bested them, Legolas and Tauriel still had enough subtlety left to get past them unseen. The former captain was not sure whether she approved of that circumstance or not.

"I spent two hundred years bringing the Palace Guard into shape, but look at them now that Alation is gone!" Tauriel muttered under her breath while climbing over the slippery rocks above the watercourse, which proved to be even more difficult with only one fully functional leg. Legolas had gone ahead and was trying to open the trapdoors of the wine cellar, so all he heard was a shriek and a loud splash when she lost her balance and fell into the river. He hurried back, his heart beating twice as fast at the sight of the currents and the rocks sticking out of the water everywhere. In the scarce light of the tunnel he could hardly see his own hands.

"Tauriel? Are you hurt?" he called – and never in his life had he been so relieved to hear someone uttering curses. He helped her climb out of the water and together they made the rest of the short way to the trapdoors. It was only in the dim light of the wine cellar that both of them noticed the bleeding cut across her palm and the laceration on her forehead. "Healing quarters, right now!" Legolas commanded without even waiting for her to give her opinion.

They passed through the now unoccupied and unguarded dungeons and ascended to the higher levels of the palace, not paying attention to the two or three people they met in the corridors. Despite her bleeding hand, Tauriel insisted on making a detour through the royal quarters to check on the children first. Legolas' sensible argument that seeing their mother soaking wet and blood-stained would not necessarily benefit a wholesome sleep did not change her mind, so he yielded to his wife's stubbornness and they directed their steps to the twins' bedchamber. Quietly Legolas opened the door and peeked inside, only to find both children sound asleep and unharmed after their respective forest trips. He let Tauriel have a look as well and was just about to close the door again when he heard a muffled voice in the adjoining chamber.

"Excuse me? How is it an exaggeration that I am worried about my missing daughter and son-in-law?" It was Lady Nimiel and both Tauriel and Legolas immediately felt guilty.

Another familiar voice, the king's, to be precise, whispered in response, "We are speaking of two warriors who can inflict more wounds in a minute than you can heal in a year. Let us wait until dawn and if they have not returned by then, I will send out scouts."

A heartfelt sigh could be heard before Nimiel muttered, "Very well, but something tells me that they have met a misfortune." Tauriel and Legolas could clearly imagine Thranduil's eye-rolling after that remark.

"For now, let us be glad that at least the children have not suffered much distress," they heard him say, and in a warmer voice he added, "By the way, you make a formidable grandmother, my lady. Baking biscuits with them proved to be an excellent distraction."

"Thank you," Nimiel replied, "but it was your story that made them go to sleep, so the praise is not all mine. Although I have to say that I have never heard a bedtime story with quite so much blood and steel in it." It sounded more teasing than reproachful and Legolas remembered his father's unconventional narrations with an involuntary smile.

Thranduil cleared his throat and defended himself, "Gilieth seemed most interested in the anatomical details of killing and Thandir is quite a bold young man anyway, at least that was my impression on today's outing. I am confident my story will not disturb their peace of mind – not after forty years under the influence of my son and your daughter." At that the secret listeners exchanged a grin of pretended indignation.

"Do not trouble yourself, I am sure everything will turn out well," the king added after a pause. There was a short silence during which they heard Nimiel walking a few steps. Tauriel glanced at Legolas questioningly, gesturing in direction of their parents, and after a moment he shrugged and nodded. They crossed the bedchamber and entered the adjoining room.

Both Nimiel and the king had their backs turned to the door and did not notice the quiet entrance. The lady was twisting a piece of her skirt between her fingers and shifting nervously from one leg to the other. "I cannot help it," she started, but the king stepped beside her and put his arm around her shoulder.

"You should get some rest," he stated firmly but calmly, "and when you wake up tomorrow, they will most likely have returned." The next thing that happened was more of a shock to Tauriel and Legolas than their getting lost and the accident in the tunnel combined: The king raised Nimiel's hand to his lips and kissed it, whereas she rested her head on his shoulder and embraced him.

"Agreed, but you should not stay up much longer either," she whispered. "That pile of letters on your desk can certainly wait until morning." With that they both turned around – and froze at the sight of Legolas and Tauriel in the doorframe.

For an excruciatingly long while no one said anything, until Thranduil finally brought himself to utter, "Well, how fortunate that you have found your way home. I believe there is something we need to discuss."

* * *

><p>Tauriel had held it together during the whole way from the children's chamber to the healing quarters, even after Legolas had blatantly refused to talk about anything at present and fled the scene. But now that the door of the treatment room closed behind her and her mother, she had to spill it out or else she would choke. "What on earth was that? Well, I know what it was, but… why? I mean, I know why… Valar help me!"<p>

Nimiel grimaced and let out a deep breath. She signalled Tauriel to sit down and grabbed a box of linen and two bottles from a shelf without looking, then she pulled out another chair and sat down opposite her daughter. "I can imagine how shocked the two of you must be and it is very unfortunate you had to learn it this way," she started.

"Indeed it is," Tauriel hissed. "Were you going to tell us eventually?"

"Of course we were," Nimiel gave back, sounding not so sure at all. "We were trying to find a convenient moment and the right words. Which do not exist in this case, I believe." She drenched a piece of linen in the liquid from one of the bottles and pressed it on the laceration on Tauriel's forehead. It stung like needles, but not half as much as the thousand questions in her mind.

"Does that mean that you are… officially…" She stopped for lack of an adequate expression.

"Yes, it does," Nimiel saved her the trouble while she repeated the procedure with another piece of linen on Tauriel's palm.

"But you are both married," was the only statement Tauriel came up with.

Her mother released her hand and looked straight into her face. "As you may imagine, we are well aware of that," she pointed out calmly. "I do not ask your acceptance because I myself am struggling with my consciousness. I can only tell you that it was not a rushed decision and that we love each other no less than you and Legolas do. If this is a crime in the eyes of the world, and one to be judged by other people, then I daresay the world has strange priorities." Her lips tightened for a moment and without another word she started applying some of the liquid from the second bottle to Tauriel's hand.

Her daughter observed her in silence, reading the inner struggle clearly from her face. Tauriel herself was torn between what she had been taught and what she wished for her mother. Eventually she said, "I'm not judging you. I'm only asking myself what this means for Arasdaer and Lady Merilissel if the common belief is true and the dead will return to life."

Nimiel let her hands sink into her lap. "There I am no wiser than you are," she admitted. "For the moment Aman is still far away. We have not decided if… I mean, what will happen once we go there."

Tauriel wondered at the odd look on her mother's face, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, so she gave her a shy smile and tried, "I don't know what to think of all this yet, but if you are happy, it cannot be wrong altogether. As for me, I actually don't mind, on the contrary. Legolas, however…" She exhaled through her teeth and frowned. "Oh well, I guess he was just overwhelmed. Give him some time and I'm sure he will understand." She managed to sound more confident than she felt.

Nimiel would not be fooled, but she returned her daughter's smile as best she could. "I hope so. Tomorrow I will speak to Amril as well." It was obvious how much she dreaded that conversation and Tauriel had to admit she did not wish to trade places with her.

* * *

><p>When Tauriel entered her and Legolas' chamber, she found him standing immobile by the cold fireplace. He turned around and gave her the most artificial smile she had ever seen on him. "You had your injuries treated – good," he uttered.<p>

She walked up to him and wrapped her arms around him. He allowed it, but did not return the gesture. "Did you talk to your father?" she eventually asked.

"I did," it came back without any emotion. "I suppose your mother told you the same story he told me."

"Probably," Tauriel mused and was bold enough to add, "I actually think it's not so bad at all."

He stared at her in utter bewilderment. "That's easy for you to say, but I bet my mother would strongly disagree." He freed himself from her embrace and brought a few steps between them.

Tauriel shrugged. "Fine, sulk a little if that helps you," she grumbled and walked away from him. She knew she was not being very supportive, but dealing with his bad mood was simply too much after all that had happened this day. She sat down on the bed and took off her shoes, scowling at him.

As expected, it took him less than a minute to break the silence and join her. "I'm not sulking. If anything, I'm… brooding. I'm utterly horrified!" He underlined his statement with a grimace of disgust.

Tauriel raised an eyebrow and asked carefully, "Don't you think you're exaggerating a bit? I know it's a whole different situation for me, but…"

"Exactly!" he interrupted her. "So please spare me your insights just for tonight. I need some time to wrap my mind around this." With that he got up again and after another hesitant look at her he left the room.

* * *

><p>Tauriel granted Legolas his wish and gave him time. Of course he soon came to her and apologised for the things he had thrown at her in his foul mood, and she expressed her regrets for showing him so little sympathy.<p>

As promised by Nimiel, Amril heard the news the next morning. He went through a similar thought process as Legolas, but unlike him he eventually came to terms with his mother's choice and buried his grudge, or at least he kept it to himself.

Legolas, however, was unable – or unwilling – to do so. He kept up the icy politeness with which he treated both his father and Nimiel now for the following three weeks, until it was decided unanimously that the visit should better come to an end. There was no embrace and no kind words between the king and his son when the six travellers left the Woodland Halls.


	43. Blue Seas

Probably for the thirtieth time Tauriel let her eyes wander around the main room of her little cottage in the valley of Emyn Arnen, the place she had called home for a hundred and twenty years and would leave behind for good in only a few hours. The family's belongings had been packed and were waiting outside to be loaded on a wagon, along with the luggage of all the other Eldar of Greenwood whose time in Gondor was coming to an end.

Three months ago King Elessar Telcontar had joined his ancestors in the next world and his son Eldarion had claimed the throne of the Reunited Kingdom. Although he had assured the Elves that they would be welcome in his realm as long as they wished, everyone knew that their place was no longer amongst the Edain, neither in Gondor nor anywhere else on these shores.

The Eldar were destined to leave the world of the mortals, be it by sailing to the West or by retreating to the shadows of their forests and eventually fading into memory. Tauriel felt it in her heart, as well as all her people did. Some heard the call of the sea, Legolas most of all, others only longed to return to their homeland. As for Tauriel, she had known for many years that she would sail to Aman with her husband one day, and although she did not feel particularly drawn to that mythical place, she had come to terms with the journey that lay ahead of her.

First the Eldar of Ithilien would travel back to Greenwood, and then, as far as she imagined, it would not take long until they would set out west together with the king, Lady Nimiel and all the Woodland people willing to leave.

Legolas, however, had slightly different plans. Tauriel employed all her willpower to stop herself from getting annoyed again about his foolish scheme of building a ship of his own and sailing down the Anduin with Gimli. The Dwarf had spent the three months since Aragorn's funeral in Ithilien and together the two lunatics had started their shipbuilding project. At some point Tauriel had given up on talking them out of it. Instead she had made it very clear that neither she nor her children would set foot on their construction and if Legolas valued his marriage and his limbs he would come to Greenwood with the rest of the Eldar. For lack of alternatives he had agreed, but Tauriel knew he had not abandoned his plan.

She shook her head in silence and picked the last basket full of clothes up from the floor. When she stepped out of the cottage, she saw that some people were already busy loading their belongings on two wooden wagons. Gilieth was among them and on seeing her mother she came towards her, pulling a long face.

"Do we really have to leave right now?" she complained. "If we could only stay two more weeks, my elderberries would be ready for picking. It's such a waste!"

Tauriel nodded. "I know. I'm very sorry, but I'm afraid we cannot delay the journey of our whole village because of your berries. Don't you think the Edain healers will make good use of them?"

Gilieth sighed and gave in, "Of course they will." She took the basket from Tauriel's hands and carried it to the wagon. Her mother watched her in sympathy. For her children the departure was probably harder than for anyone else, after all they were leaving the only home they had ever known.

"Where is Thandir?" Tauriel wanted to know, suddenly becoming aware that her son had yet again managed to vanish while everyone else was working.

"Stealing some mortal girl's heart, as usual, I suppose," Gilieth stated casually and shrugged. The two of them grinned at each other.

However, their little moment of mischief was interrupted by the voice of the very ellon in question. "Did I hear my name?" Thandir asked innocently and came walking around the corner of the stable building, accompanied by his father who held the obligatory quill and pile of lists in his hands.

"We were just wondering where you had gone," Tauriel gave back. "We missed you – particularly your hands." She raised an eyebrow at him and nodded at the wagons.

"I was on a diplomatic mission with Ada!" Thandir protested. "Well, actually we only took some things we won't need on the journey up to the Edain." Legolas pointedly crossed out an item on his list with a look of utter satisfaction that made Tauriel chuckle.

Gilieth grabbed her brother's arm and dragged him to the wagons, demanding, "Come on, let's make ourselves useful!"

Legolas scanned his list once more and pointed out, "It seems everything is done. Finally! No more official farewells, no more signing over of property – as soon as everyone has packed their things, we can be on our way."

He looked relieved, but Tauriel probed anyway, "And what about the unofficial farewells? I suppose Gimli hasn't left for Rohan yet?"

Legolas gave her an odd look. "Of course not. I told you, he will stay and continue building the ship until I return."

"You can't actually go through with this nonsense," Tauriel interrupted him more harshly than intended.

"I will not leave him here," Legolas declared, "he is coming with us to Aman." Tauriel could not decide whether it was determination or defiance that she read on his face.

Although it had been fruitless many times before, she tried, "Even if we ignore the fact that he is far too old for such a journey, you are aware of the minor difficulty that he is a Dwarf, aren't you? How would he even be allowed to enter Aman?"

"He bears a token of Lady Galadriel's favour," Legolas replied not for the first time either, "I'm sure she will put in a good word for him. Meeting her again is his dearest wish and you can see for yourself what the prospect of another adventure has done for him in the last few months. I will not take that away from him. He is my friend and I intend to do whatever I can to make the evening of his life worthwhile. Besides, I do not wish to part with him any sooner than Aulë forces me to."

"Fine," she groaned, "I see your point about Gimli – but I have said it before and I'm saying it again: Our children will not go near that boat of yours, so we will have to travel to Aman separately."

"All right, all right!" Legolas interjected. His annoyance was clearly visible. "I see that you don't trust our skills and for the children's sake I don't blame you. I hate the idea of travelling on separate ways just as much as you do, but I'm afraid this is how it will be – I'm sorry." He gave her an apologetic yet determined look and walked off to the stable.

Tauriel uttered a curse behind gritted teeth, but she could not bring herself to truly be angry with him. She granted the two friends their last adventure. If she was completely honest, she even envied them, but of course the safety of her children had to be her first concern. She let out a deep breath and wiped the frown off her face before she joined the others in loading the wagons.

* * *

><p>Tauriel hated farewells. She did not consider herself a sentimental person, but within the last years she had had to say that word too many times. Éowyn, Faramir, Aragorn and so many other dear friends had gone to Mandos, and of course there were those who still lived in Gondor but whom she would never see again.<p>

The most recent goodbye had been said to Lady Arwen in Minas Tirith. Although Tauriel had never been as close to the Queen of Gondor as to many of the Edain, seeing the once so radiant and spirited elleth bereft of her will to live and ready to follow her husband into death had been a heartbreaking experience. Legolas had asked Arwen to join the Eldar on their journey even though he knew it was impossible, given the choice she had made long ago. Instead she had told him about her intention of leaving the White City and taking one last journey to Lothlórien, where she had spent some of her happiest years. So Legolas and Tauriel had left her, taking comfort from the knowledge that despite her grief she had come to terms with her fate and was at peace.

But even now that the Eldar were back in Greenwood, the unsaid farewells lingered behind every corner and in every conversation. Tauriel and Legolas tried to visit all the places in the forest that held old memories. They showed the twins as much as they could and did their best to convey the Woodland Realm's culture to them, which was not easy because everywhere they went they saw decay.

The population had decreased during the last decades. Some people had sailed, but most had gradually lived a more and more secluded life in their forest settlements, avoiding contact not only to outsiders but also to their own kin. Many families had not been seen for years and their dwellings were overgrown by vegetation much faster than one would expect. There were rumours of entire villages disappearing, as if being swallowed by the forest. Still, no one seemed alarmed by these circumstances. Although the last days of the Woodland Realm were accompanied by a certain melancholy, the Eldar felt that this was the natural course of their lives and most preferred it to an uncertain future in the West, a place their people had no connection to, as their ancestors had never set foot on the shores of Aman.

For Tauriel the most unsettling part of it was the factual dissolution of the Woodland Guard. There were still a few people who felt responsible for the caves' safety, but all former structures and hierarchies were gone. In a way, life had gone back to the way it must have been before the arrival of the Sindar, as she imagined.

At the moment she was standing in the training yard, bending her bow and facing a target that had probably not been used in at least ten years. The familiar resistance of the string and the arrow's short buzzing sound were the same as always and made her feel nostalgic and comfortable at once. The arrow pierced the target, but it landed about half an inch left of the centre.

Tauriel snorted. "Professionals at work," she grumbled to herself and walked to the target to erase the traces of this mishap.

"It's only half an inch," Thandir objected on seeing his mother's sour face. He had spent the last hour shooting and had made a decent figure, as Tauriel noted with satisfaction.

"Which can mean the difference between a dead Orc and one that can kill you in turn," she pointed out. "Not that we are likely to encounter any nowadays, but we don't know what we might come across on our journey, and as there will not be as many good archers with our company as there could be…" She stopped, biting back the rest of the statement – no need to drag her son into her disagreement with Legolas.

Thandir looked at her quizzically. "You're worried because Ada will go back to Gondor in a few days, aren't you? That's why you seem a bit off track lately."

'Thank you for your observation, ion nín,' Tauriel thought. Aloud she said, "Yes, it does worry me that he will not travel to the West with us but go with Gimli on that dubious boat they are building. But if it means so much to him that he is willing to take such risk, we must respect his decision." She hoped to sound tolerably sincere.

"I wouldn't mind sailing on their boat," Thandir remarked casually while pretending to be very busy putting all his arrows back into the quiver.

Tauriel suppressed a grin. "My dear, we have had this discussion more than once. I understand how tempting this kind of undertaking sounds to you, but I have the unfortunate task to stem your thirst for adventure. We will see a lot more travelling by road than they will on the water, and besides, the last stage of our journey will take us on a ship as well. First we will cross the Mountains of Hithaeglir and perhaps see what is left of Imladris, then we will pass the lands of Men and the dwellings of the halflings in the West – it will be a true adventure, save the necessity to defend ourselves, I hope. And as for your father and Gimli, they have mastered greater endeavours than this and I expect they will already be waiting for us and tease us for our lateness when we arrive in Alqualondë." She forced herself to smile and tried to believe her own words.

"Come now, let me see you shooting all these targets in a row as fast as you can before we go to join your grandmother for tea."

* * *

><p>Legolas had expected to spend the late afternoon drinking tea with his family, but as he made his way to Lady Nimiel's chambers, he was stopped by Galion. "The king would like to speak to you in private," the butler announced, looking strangely uncomfortable. "He is asking you to join him on the tower."<p>

Surprised, Legolas thanked Galion and directed his steps to the courtyard. While he ascended the stairs to the Eastern Watchtower, his mind went back to the conversations he had had with his father up there. For many centuries the tower had been the king's preferred place to seek solitude and whenever he had invited someone else there, the subject had been serious.

He found Thranduil standing at the edge of the platform and looking down into the forest. Within the last a hundred and twenty years the vegetation had grown back to its normal density after its destruction during the war. Everything looked the way it always had and yet Legolas could not help feeling ill at ease. He had not spoken to his father of much more than polite banalities since the incident on one of their previous visits when his connection to Lady Nimiel had been revealed.

Thranduil greeted his son with a nod and said, "I thank you for joining me here. As you may expect, there is something I wish to discuss with you." He made a visible effort to conceal his agitation and Legolas got more and more alarmed.

"What is it?" he eventually asked.

The king breathed deeply and took a step towards his son. For a moment it looked as if he would touch him and Legolas' muscles tightened involuntarily, but Thranduil stopped and folded his hands behind his back. After a second or two he started, "I am aware that these last years have not been easy between the two of us. Although it may not seem so, it troubles me greatly that one of my life decisions in particular has caused you so much distress."

'Eru, please spare me,' Legolas groaned internally and hoped his face would not show his annoyance.

"Yet there is one more decision I must convey to you that may or may not unsettle you – it remains to be seen." On saying this, the king suddenly looked very vulnerable. "I have pondered it for many years and telling you in this moment will at last make it reality, so forgive me if I appear to be scared of my own words." He glanced at the treetops beneath them and braced himself before he finally uttered, "When you and your family travel to Aman, I will not accompany you."

Of everything Thranduil might have said this was a revelation Legolas would not have foreseen for the life of him. He repeated the words in his head, but at first he was unable to make sense of them. "Beg your pardon?" he eventually mumbled. "What do you mean, you will not…"

The king looked straight into his son's face but kept silent. This was when Legolas' mind came to realise what his father had just told him. "But you know what happens to those who stay," he stammered, horrified by the very idea. "Why would you do this?" He could not and did not want to imagine eternity without his father and suddenly their quarrel about Lady Nimiel seemed like the most foolish waste of time.

"I have lived through six thousand seven hundred years, three ages of the world and more wars than I care to count," Thranduil replied and suddenly his voice conveyed all the weariness that time had laid on his shoulders. "I am tired. I have seen enough joy and grief to fill a lifetime, even for our kind, and there is neither the strength nor the will left in me to start anew in a whole different world. What is more, I cannot bring myself to leave this forest. I have been its guardian for so long that I feel the land and I have become one. If I went away, I would leave my soul behind."

Legolas listened to his father's explanation in bewilderment, but at the same time he understood him. He could not think of an answer, so they simply stood on the tower in silence, side by side as they had not done for far too long.

Finally Legolas stated, "I never thought I would one day have to bid you farewell. To tell the truth, I don't know what to do without you." A bitter smile appeared on his face.

The king returned it and answered, "You have spent most of your life avoiding my council and I must say you have done remarkably well without it. You have a family of your own now and as much as I would wish to be part of it, I trust the four of you will cut your own path and live a happy life."

"Adar, I'm sorry for the way I behaved towards you these last years," it suddenly broke out of Legolas. "It was narrow-minded and childish of me."

"And yet justified," the king weighed in. "You were disappointed and you had every right to be. There is no need to question your feelings now, just because we will go separate ways."

Legolas cringed internally and felt like a stupid child. "You know I think very highly of Lady Nimiel and I wish only the best for her – and for you, of course. I was just shocked because I had never entertained the idea that…"

"I know," Thranduil cut him short, "and I do not blame you."

After a short pause Legolas wanted to know, "Will she stay here with you?"

A frown crossed Thranduil's face. "I would have her sail with her son and daughter," he replied, "but she feels the same way I do about leaving this place. She too has no wish for yet another new beginning elsewhere. She is telling Tauriel and Amril about it right now."

Legolas nodded slowly and mumbled, "I see." He did not even want to imagine how Tauriel would react to the news.

Father and son stayed on the tower for a long time and spoke of many things, happy and sad ones alike. They told each other about their lives during the last sixty years, they laughed, they argued, until both of them felt ready to face the rest of the world again with the knowledge that they would soon bid each other farewell.

When Legolas returned to his family's accommodation late in the evening, he found the twins playing a board game, apparently still unaware of the latest turn of events. All the better, he thought and set out to find his wife. He tried all the places he could think of that Tauriel would go to when she was upset. After being unsuccessful everywhere in the halls and being told by the lonely watchman at the gate that she had not left, he went to the last place that came to his mind.

And in fact there he found her, sitting at the sturdy wooden table in her old captain's office that had not been used for years, resting her head in her hands and staring at the opposite wall.

"Tauriel," he addressed her carefully, "it took me quite a while to find you here. I assume you have heard the news."

She looked up at him and nodded. "I have," she whispered almost inaudibly, but still her voice left no doubt that she had been crying. Legolas sat down next to her and put his arm around her.

"Wasn't this supposed to be a new beginning?" she asked. "Why is it all about loss? Why does everything have to change?"

"I don't know," he gave back. "Maybe that's what it means when they say the days of the Eldar are over. Our people brought consistency to this world, but now it's time for change."

Tauriel tried to smile at him, but she failed. "Promise me I will not lose you as well. Promise me you will be there and wait for us when we arrive in Aman. I need to know that I will see you again after that adventure of yours."

"You will, as always," he assured her and pulled her in his arms.

* * *

><p>The Gondorian sun burnt without mercy and Legolas could not understand how Gimli was surviving under all his layers of cloth, leather and hair. The Dwarf had just finished loading the last wooden box filled with food on the boat and eyed his elven friend with unveiled excitement. "It seems we are ready."<p>

Legolas stood on the jetty and looked at the sky. There were but a few clouds and a soft autumn breeze was blowing. The waters of the Anduin were quiet and the seagulls' calls had never sounded merrier to his ears. He turned to the Gondorian shipwright and his apprentice who had helped him and Gimli build their boat during the last months. "We thank you for your patience and your wisdom," he addressed them. "May the stars of Elbereth shine upon you and your loved ones and may this land grow greener and more prosperous every year."

"Have a safe journey and a joyous arrival, whatever those mythical Westlands may be like," the shipwright replied. "We will hold your people in good memory. Farewell!"

Legolas untied the rope that held the boat and stepped on board. The wind blew into the sail and the vessel slowly started moving. The Elf threw a last look at the Edain on the riverbank and waved them goodbye. As he felt the soft up and down of the waves and the wind on his face, it was as if a heavy weight had been lifted off his mind that had been there ever since he had heard the seagulls for the first time.

He brought his thoughts back to the people he had left behind, most of all his father, and allowed himself a last moment of grief. Then he took a deep breath and looked ahead at the seemingly endless stream. "Yes, we are ready," he said to Gimli as their last journey began.

* * *

><p>"There! I can see the haven! Thandir, Uncle Amril, come and look!" Gilieth could hardly contain her excitement and almost started jumping up and down at the ship's rail. Tauriel observed her daughter from a safe distance and refrained from telling her to be careful – after all, it had never had any effect since they had boarded the ship in Mithlond. Tauriel's stomach made an attempt to turn again, so she bit the inside of her cheek to distract herself from the queasy feeling. She was not born to be a sailor, that much was for certain, a fate she shared with Eilianneth and some of the other Silvans of the Woodland Realm who were travelling with her. Amril, his daughter and Tauriel's children, however, seemed perfectly at ease. "Must be the Sindarin heritage," she muttered to herself and shook her head at such injustice not for the first time.<p>

Out of kindness she threw a quick glance in the direction Gilieth was pointing at. Indeed, she could vaguely distinguish a shore with lots of white buildings and a few dots that looked like ships lying in the haven. So this was it, Alqualondë, the mythical Swanhaven from the old stories. Tauriel wished she could appreciate the importance of the moment, but for one thing her stomach did not allow her to focus on anything, and for another the arrival at the end of their journey made too many memories resurge.

The last days at the Woodland Halls came back to her mind – her final visit at Sidhril's grave, the last time she had shot arrows in the training yard, the walk along the riverside with the children, and of course her last conversation with her mother. They had sat in Nimiel's gloomy little office at the Houses of Healing like so many times before, drinking ginger tea and talking about all and nothing almost until dawn. Nimiel had told her stories from her childhood that she herself had long forgotten. Tauriel had thanked her for everything she had done, but mostly for being a mother to her when her own had been taken from her. Both of them had shed many tears and shared lots of laughter that night.

Her farewell to the king had been less hearty but equally honest. She had thanked him for what he had taught her and what he had helped her become. He had told her how proud she had made him as his captain and how glad he was to know that she was at his son's side.

All of that had happened months ago and Tauriel could hardly believe how much time she had spent on the road and how many wondrous sights she had seen. As planned, the Eldar had crossed the Misty Mountains and passed the Last Homely House only to find it deserted. Then they had travelled through the vast lands of Men, being gaped at like a curiosity and treated as if those people had never seen Elves before – well, perhaps they had not, Tauriel mused, and they would most likely never see any again. The last stage of their journey before reaching Mithlond had been the land of the halflings. The Eldar had not made much contact with those peaceable creatures who preferred being left alone by strangers.

Then, finally, they had reached the dwellings of their own people east of Ered Luin. At the Grey Havens they had found a ship that would take them to Aman, but not before spending a month in the city of Mithlond, a breath-taking melting pot of each and every Eldarin culture that had ever existed in Arda. It was probably the last place on this side of the sea where the Elves still had a little time left to stay and flourish. Thandir and Gilieth had made many new acquaintances and could hardly be persuaded to leave them behind, which was only natural, as they had never been surrounded by so many other Eldar, let alone of their own age.

But at last the Woodland people had boarded the ship and set out to cross the sea, and now even this stage of their journey was coming to its end. Despite her rebelling stomach Tauriel joined her family at the railing. She noticed that most of the buildings visible from the haven were adorned with pearls and that many of the boats within sight were shaped like swans. The large ship slowly worked its way into the haven – it was a wonder that it did not hit any of its fellow vessels. People came to help tie the ropes and put a wooden gangplank from the ship to the quay. Tauriel listened to their language that possessed many familiar sounds and a few recognisable words but was mostly unintelligible to her.

In the general chaos of people gathering their luggage and calling out for their companions, Tauriel employed all the authority she had left from her days as a commander to keep her family together, waiting for a calmer moment to disembark. When she finally crossed the gangplank, holding on to her daughter's hand for dear life, who was in turn grasping Thandir's arm, she could hardly distinguish anything or anyone in the sheer flurry of people, sounds and sights.

"Over here!" Amril called and manoeuvred them to a quieter spot under a large conifer that Tauriel could not identify.

"What now?" Eilianneth asked her husband, nervously avoiding the looks of two ellith walking by and mumbling something about 'Nandor'.

Amril fiddled in his pocket and produced a piece of folded paper. "According to what the captain told me, we have to register with the city scribe within three days of our arrival," he read. "Then our names will be put on an official list, so that people can inquire and find us, and we may start looking for our acquaintances as well. But we need to tell the scribe where we're staying, so we probably ought to find an inn first." He scratched his head, looking around in confusion. "I had no idea this would be so complicated. Relocating to Ithilien was much easier, even though we had to build our own homes!"

Eilianneth nodded in agreement. "Besides, the people there spoke our language. Let's hope that city scribe knows at least a little Sindarin."

So the family followed the general stream of the crowd and arrived in what appeared to be the city centre. Indeed it did not take them long to find an inn with the capacity to accommodate them. Fortunately the owner happened to be a Sinda to whom they could talk. He was most fascinated by the guests because apparently not many Silvans, or Nandor, as their people were referred to for lack of more specific knowledge, had ever come to Alqualondë. Eilianneth and her daughter were delegated as ambassadors with the noble task of answering their host's many questions, whereas Amril, Tauriel and the twins embarked on the quest to find the infamous city scribe that same afternoon.

The office was hard to miss, even for the Woodland Elves unused to the busy city life. The registration procedure itself was short and simple and the scribe as well as all his colleagues did indeed possess a basic knowledge of Sindarin. However, when Tauriel approached one of his assistants to inquire after Legolas, the first thing she earned was a stare of horror.

"Manwë Súlimo! Are there still some of you left?" the ellon exclaimed.

Tauriel raised an eyebrow. "Beg your pardon?" She watched in bewilderment as he gestured at her hair.

"Redheads – Kinslayers!" He almost spat the word out before her, loudly enough for the rest of the people in the office to turn their heads.

Tauriel could barely resist the urge to roll her eyes and forced herself to answer as politely as possible, "I assure you, while I have slain many an Orc in my day, I have no interest in slaying anyone's kin. On the contrary, I wish to find one of mine, my husband, to be precise. He hails from the Woodland Realm and goes by the name of Legolas Thranduilion. Do you happen to have him in your book?"

The ellon listened to her with a wary glare, but he granted her the favour of opening the massive leather-bound volume in front of him. "Legolas Thranduilion," he mouthed while browsing the pages, "what extraordinary names these people bear… Legolas Thr- … aha!" He tapped his finger on the page. "Here we have him!"

An involuntary sigh of relief escaped Tauriel.

The scribe's assistant studied the entry in his book and his eyes widened. "He was the one who arrived with the Dwarf," he said more to himself than to her. "Extraordinary creature! One reads about them, for sure, but of course nobody had ever laid eyes on one. Is it true that those… things still exist in abundance over there on the other side?" He gave Tauriel a curious look, but she could only return a grimace.

"Yes, I guess it is," she stammered, slightly abhorred. "Now, could you tell me how to find my husband?"

"Oh yes, certainly," he remembered. "My notes say that he arrived two months ago but left Alqualondë with his… companion a week later to travel to the city of Tirion and visit the Lady Alatáriel and her son-in-law, Lord Elrond. But it also says here that I should inform anyone who would ask for him about his intend to return here as soon as possible." He looked at Tauriel triumphantly, which she took as a request to acknowledge his excellent note-keeping. She did not oblige him.

"Thank you," she replied with the most artificial smile she could produce, "pray take a note next to my name to tell him where to find me, should he return here." With that she turned around and made for the exit, dragging her brother and children with her.

A week passed and then another and another during which Tauriel heard no news from Legolas. The family started to become acquainted with the city and some of its inhabitants, whom they found to be far more agreeable than the first impression had suggested. Thandir and Gilieth spent most of their days exploring and had new stories to tell every day.

One evening, however, they stayed out longer than usually, so Tauriel was already starting to feel uneasy. But when they finally arrived, they were not alone – and she wanted to laugh and cry all at once when she could finally embrace her husband again after months of separation and worry.

"Meleth nín, it's so good to see you. Imagine my surprise when I rode into the city with no bad intentions and suddenly I ran into these two," Legolas joked, smiling at Gilieth and Thandir.

Tauriel nodded. "I can picture it. So, how was your stay in Tirion and where is Gimli?"

All of a sudden the smiles left the faces of Legolas and the children and Tauriel already sensed the answer to her question.

"He joined his ancestors a month ago," Legolas stated quietly, "after seeing both his last wishes fulfilled, making the journey to Aman on our boat and meeting Lady Galadriel once more. He was happy and he died without pain. I buried him under rocks, as it is the custom of his people." He gulped heavily and tightened his grip around Tauriel's hand.

"May Aulë receive his soul in kindness," she whispered.

* * *

><p>The sun was just about to rise over the treetops and some particularly enthusiastic chaffinches raised their voices to wake up the forest. For the two Eldar who walked along the path, however, the wakening call came far too late.<p>

"So what do you think, who will win this time?" Legolas teased Tauriel, giving her a gentle nudge with the end of his bow.

"Me, of course!" she gave back and grinned widely. "I'm determined to shoot something today before you even spot it!" She returned the nudge with her own bow.

"Good luck with that," Legolas mocked her. "Besides, we were commissioned to bring two rabbits and one deer, so there is plenty for both of us to shoot."

Tauriel shrugged. "Fine, we'll see. Oh well, going hunting without Thandir feels a bit lonely, doesn't it? I can hardly believe he went back to Alqualondë all by himself while we are here in our lovely green, spider-free forest."

"What can you do when the sea calls you?" Legolas mused dramatically, making Tauriel chuckle. "He'll be a fine shipwright one day, I'm sure, at least if his master does not throw him off the pier for making annoying remarks."

"Even if that happens, Gilieth can sew him back together," Tauriel added, not even trying to hide her pride in her two children.

Suddenly she stopped and her face became more serious. "Has it really been a year since we came here? It seems like yesterday, and yet I feel so at home here."

"So do I," Legolas affirmed, "even though I miss Greenwood and of course my father. But being here – being here with you – makes me understand his choice a little better every day."

Tauriel gave him a bittersweet smile. "Nimiel used to say that home was not a place but a feeling. Now I know what she meant by that."

With that the two Eldar joined hands and continued their way into the forest in silence.


	44. Epilogue

"Look, Mama, is this the plant we need?" the little boy exclaimed and pulled on his mother's sleeve, pointing at a large amount of small, dark green leaves and white blossoms growing in the shadow of an oak – kingsfoil.

"Yes, it is," the woman affirmed, setting her basket on the forest floor, "well done." She knelt down and started murmuring the old rhyme her grandmother had taught her long ago. She did not understand the words – maybe they were not even real words – but she always said them before pulling a plant out of the soil, and so did all the other herb-wives she knew. It was one of many ancient traditions, probably not much more than that.

"Why do you always say this poem?" her son wanted to know when she was finished.

Carefully she began freeing the delicate plants from the dry leaves that covered them and pulled them out. "Why, to appease the Lady of the Woods and to thank her for gifting us with these herbs," she explained, retelling the old story every child in the forest knew.

The boy's eyes widened. "Who is she?"

"She is said to be one of the mighty fairies who lived here ages and ages ago," she explained. "She was the wisest and most skilled healer far and wide. Her hands had healing powers and whatever she touched became healthy and strong again. It is her power that makes the plants in this forest so wholesome, so we must show her our gratitude and respect." She smiled at her son's curious expression.

"Papa told me about the fairies," he added. "He says that he once got lost in the forest as a boy and saw a huge white elk that showed him the way home. He thinks it was the king of the fairies in disguise."

His mother grinned – she would have to ask her husband about that particular event. "Perhaps it was," she answered. "The king protects all that lives in the forest. We never hunt more animals than we can eat and use all parts of their bodies from the meat and the fur to the bones, remember? Come now, let's go home."

She grabbed her basket and took her son's hand and together they made their way along the path. The boy was very quiet and threw curious glances over his shoulder now and then. Maybe he was hoping to catch a glimpse of the fairies, just like she had as a child, his mother thought and smiled to herself.

* * *

><p><em>Here we are, this is it – I can't believe this story is finished. Thank you so much for your continued support, no matter if you were a silent reader or one who shared their opinion. <em>_In the future I may write some additional one-shots set in the "Purple Elks verse". I've already got a few requests, so if there's any character or any situation you would like me to explore, feel free to let me know._


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